


Collapsing Stars

by TheSolarSurfer



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: A new hope, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Earth, Earthlings in Star Wars, Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Reincarnation, Science Fiction, The Force, but most of the events will still play out, de-ageing, this takes five years before canon events of New Hope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSolarSurfer/pseuds/TheSolarSurfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A girl from Earth discovers that her fate lies elsewhere: In a civil war that is tearing up the galaxy in desperate need of her help. Can she, with powers she never knew she had? Will she survive the war? Will she become the hero they need her to be? Rated T for language. </p><p>VERY AU</p><p>---</p><p>Started back in 2010, rewriting after watching the Force Awakens :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Another FanFic I've written, this time for Star Wars. I don't know how many times I've redone this, but I think I'm going to do it again. Sigh. I don't know if I want to post the entire story or not - I won't if I don't think its good enough. Message me if you have input. Read and Review!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my own character (who has not yet shown her face).
> 
> P.S. This is a girl from present day Earth going into an extremely AU Star Wars universe (at least, I've seriously altered its history, which is kind of the point of the story). If this isn't your style, stop reading NOW. Otherwise, you're just indulging something you're probably going to hate.

**Prologue**

* * *

 

Peace. Serenity. Bliss. Silence.

He meditated in the quiet room, sitting cross-legged on a cushion, his hands on his knees, breathing deeply, erasing all stress and emotion.

It was that time of day when he could feel one with himself, one with everything. A time where he could escape and understand the true meaning of it all, and sense what was to come.

He was very old. Older than one might assume. Moreover, with age came wisdom, and with wisdom came respect and guidance. He was revered as the greatest of his kind. He accepted fate for what it was, but never stopped trying to keep the peace. He could, as some younger ones would call it, "deal" with information he received.

He could handle it. He knew what to do, how to do it, and when.

But as he languished on that cushion, an uncommon frown lined his wrinkled face.

"Grave news, this is." He murmured to himself. "How rare, this is."

He almost chuckled to himself. "And so predictable of you, Qui-Gon. To choose another form, for you. But why, Qui-Gon? An innocent soul, you have chosen. Why? "

A sensation traveled up his short spine.

"No... Deserve this, the reincarnation does not."

He spoke of an old, old law written when he was much, much younger. In fact, it was he who brought it about. For the sake of the young individuals, the rule befell.

The law stated, as it always had (these kinds of rules offered no amendments whatsoever), that the reincarnation cycle must cease, to prevent anymore unfortunate fates to the unknowing choice (as in, the reincarnation him or herself).

This was set in because, of course, the fates that all reincarnations faced. Born into the world, already a part of something they couldn't even possibly imagine. Brought up as an unwary soul, clueless to the strange acuteness of their abilities. Either found by allies who wish to help them, or enemies who wish to destroy them.

The reincarnation always held a part of the universe's fate on their shoulders. Moreover, as much good or bad they did to it; they always changed it, and always came to a sad end.

Therefore, that is why Yoda had decided to put an end to it.

However, rules, as _some_ believed, where always meant to be broken.

Yoda could not shake the feeling that one of his allies had just sealed the terrible fate of a poor young individual.

At least, that was what he thought.

What he didn't realize, until much later, was that this was no ordinary soul. Without already having a previous life, this reincarnation was different. Unique, they might say. A mindset that varied from the norm.

He frowned.

"Why, Qui-Gon? Why her?"

Yoda had at least hoped that Qui-Gon would have the decency to pick someone who was relatively near them, but, of course, being the maverick he was, the dead Jedi had to make things a little more difficult.

"Destined for greatness, she is. But at what cost, I wonder. And will she agree to the terms, I do not know."

Yoda sighed, releasing a lungful of air.

"Help, I will. Send a young one, I shall."

He got up, leaning on a small cane made for his size. He had hoped he wouldn't have to go through this again, as he had many times, and many times ago. But sometimes fate didn't follow the rules. Sometimes it liked to do as it pleased.

The Resistance was in enough turmoil as it is. Why did a reincarnation have to get involved too?

And involved in a war they had never even heard of?


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The honest fear neither the light nor the dark - English Proverb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (originally posted on Fanfiction.net back, updated DEC 2015. Below is note from original post.)
> 
> Hey guys! I know this story hasn't been updated in YEARS, but I always had a soft spot for it and I could never call it dead.
> 
> Now, with Episode 7 coming out this December, I've had new inspiration to write this story. Well, more specifically, re-write it. My first version was made back when I was a Sophomore in high school, and I've improved A LOT in the past...six(?) years. LOL I guess this fic was dead.
> 
> Well, I'm bringing it back to life, and I'm revamping it, too. There's a few name changes and the background/ethnicity of Katie's character has changed, but overall the plot has remained the same - of what few chapters I managed to write back in ye olden days.
> 
> I don't know how many people are still following this story, or how many of you are new, but I hope you like this new intro! The action won't start until at least chapter four, when we start to see more familiar characters.
> 
> If you got questions, suggestions, or critiques, please leave a review and I'll respond :)

**Chapter One**

* * *

 

"Come on, man, cough it up!"

I shouldn't have been listening, but I couldn't help myself. The back stairwell was right next to my locker, and I could hear everything, even with my earphones in.

"Not here! What if someone sees us?"

It was probably some drug deal; why else have it in the dankiest corner of the high school? No one hung out there unless they were looking for trouble, or were skipping class. Not that I would know. I happened to be getting good grades this semester, thank you very much.

"Just hand it over, or do you want to wake up, breathing through a tube?" It sounded like some jock picking on a smaller kid. Not surprising. No one would expect the star quarterback, the all-American boyscout, to be showing his knuckles to some pimply-faced kid in a ratty jacket. No, not our perfect Jared! He's such a sweetheart!

Please. I wasn't born yesterday.

I should have walked away. I should have grabbed my books, slammed my locker door shut, and headed straight for class and act like I never heard anything. That's the way it was here, at Westfield High. You don't rat out other kids here, unless you're looking for a world of pain. This was especially true if you were low on the totem pole, like I was. A freshman, with few friends, no club affiliations, no striking talents or skills, and no allies in the higher echelons of High School society. I had no connections and wasn't cool or rich enough to get them. I imagined this was a lot like what being in the mafia felt like. Nobody liked a tattletale.

Not even the teachers.

But I didn't listen to that voice, begging me to avoid trouble at all costs. To, just once, have a single uneventful, unremarkable day at school. I stared at my locker, wondering what to do as my eyes listed over the words graffiti'd on the chipped green metal.

> \- _Snitch -_
> 
> \- _Backstabbing Bitch -_
> 
> _\- NARC! -_
> 
> _\- Rat-Faced Squealer -_
> 
> _\- Go back to China! -_

I frowned at that last one, still a little ticked that people here thought I was born anywhere else besides Glendower, Virginia. How much more American could you get? And even if I was from another country, would it kill them to at least get it right? My mother was from Japan, not China. Big difference.

A part of me hoped these thoughts would distract me, remind me why I wanted nothing to do with anyone at this school. That they weren't my time. Still, the urge to peek around the corner was too great.

I rationalized to myself that my class was on the second floor, and this was merely the fastest way of getting there. Even though my class was on the _other_ side of the building, with a much more conveniently-located staircase near there.

It was good enough for me.

Clutching my books in my arms, I stepped out and into the stairwell. The effect was immediate. Jared, who couldn't be bothered to take his jersey off before class, looked at me with narrowed eyes. "What are you looking at, chink? Keep walking!"

I should have. I meant to. But for some reason, I was frozen to the spot, staring at the sight before me. I wasn't a stranger to bullying - but there was something utterly bizarre in being called out like this. I saw the fear in the smaller kid's eyes. He wasn't a drug dealer, at least not as far as I knew; maybe Jared was picking on him for homework, or test answers or something.

The boy panicked from the new witness. He scrambled for something in his pockets, withdrew what looked to be a pack of cigarettes. I almost smirked; the football player likes to smoke? Aside from obvious health issues, it wasn't alarming. I was left unimpressed. I expected Jared to be into harder drugs.

"Here, just take it!" The kid shoved the pack into Jared's open hand.

"Finally," Jared muttered, before dropping the kid. For a second, there was an air of relief as the kid readjusted the glasses on his face. Then -

_Wham!_

The kid was sent sprawling when Jared's fist met his face. I had been about to call out, to warn him; I had seen Jared wind back his arm, clench his fist, but it was too late. The kid's glasses were smashed, his nose bleeding, and the jock was already storming away, saying, "Hold out on me again and I'll break more than just your face."

But before he could leave, Jared jabbed a finger in my direction, "and if you say one word about this..." He drew the finger across his own throat, demonstrating his point quite clearly.

Then he was gone.

The other kid scrambled off before I could ask if he was all right, just telling me, "You didn't see anything."

So I went to my next class and pretended exactly that.

I actually thought that was the end of it. I was wrong.

Westfield High was pretty normal, I guess. But it was dying. The town was of decent size, and there were plenty of kids to teach, but now more parents were sending their kids to the private school on the other side of Glendower - to Bartleby's Academy for the Young and Talented. Fancy name for a fancy school. It had stone walls and big classrooms and a football team that actually, you know, _won_ stuff. The uniforms were kind of dumb, but at least you couldn't tell where anyone was from.

In Westfield, you made your name by the clothes you wear. The better clothes, the better friends, the better status. It was the only way we could make a name for ourselves here. We had a mall in Glendower, so department stores were the best way to go. The more expensive your clothes, the better it matched together, the more rules it broke, the better. Short skirts, crop tops, slouchy pants, shirts with swear words on them. Anything you could imagine, they were here, in one form or another.

My clothes were from Wal-Mart. They were worn, soft, and usually fit well. But I didn't get a new wardrobe every season. I've had these jeans for nearly three years, and it showed. Holes in the knees, ink stains, ragged hems. Sitting in the front of the class, I felt like a sore thumb between to the girl with Coach purse and another with high heels (!) that looked like torture devices.

The classrooms were either too cold or too hot. The windows opened and closed on a regular basis, even in the winter. The linoleum peeled in corners and most kids tried to avoid the bathrooms on the north end whenever possible. The custodians didn't always clean that one, and a lot of students forgot to flush. Sometimes it was better just to wait until you got home.

Behind me, three boys were having a loud conversation as the teacher tried to give a lecture on Shakespeare. I didn't have to look behind me to know that it was some of the football players, who had a strange ability to find each no matter the time and place. Even though they were a distraction, the teacher didn't try to tell them to stop; only to keep it down a little.

Westfield could only invest in one thing: sports. Sports meant fundraisers, fundraisers meant money. Money meant championships and fame and scholarships and more money. We didn't have a theatre club. We barely had a band, and they all had to buy their own instruments, their own music, their own uniforms. So whoever wore a jersey ruled the school.

It was until my last class had almost ended when the PA system squeaked on: "Will Jason DeRula, Ian Graves, and Katie Collapsar come to the principal's office please? Jason DeRula, Thomas Graves, and Katie Collapsar to the office, please."

The teacher waved me on and I had a sinking feeling in my gut as I walked that lonely trip down the hall. Apparently Jason's little hustle was caught - I didn't know how, maybe the idiot was showing off his cigarettes in the locker room when he thought no teachers were around, or there was another snitch running about.

Who knows. I was in a loud of trouble, that's for sure.

The office was quiet when I entered, and when the secretary saw me, she only pointed at the Principal's office in silence. And just like that, I knew it had gone from bad to worse.

Principal Harkness was raving when I peeked my head in. Harkness was a man in the middle of a mid-life crisis - in case the cherry red sportscar in the faculty lot didn't give it away. He was probably attractive when he was younger, but now he looked like a soccer dad raising too many kids; his tie had a mustard stain on it and his jacket didn't match his pants. Balding and with a gut, Harkness looked older than he really was, hair greying from the stress of trying to handle a high school full of kids he could no longer connect with.

Along with that, he had started a new campaign a few years ago: a complete overhaul of the school's No Tolerance rules. I thought they were strict before, but Harkness took it to a completely new level.

Before, if you were caught with any drugs: cigarettes, marijuana, whatever, you get suspended. Parents are called. Counseling might be recommended. But it's not the worst mark you could get on your record, and most kids passed by fine even after multiple instances.

Apparently this wasn't enough for Harkness. Now if you got caught, you could get _expelled_. Five kids had already been kicked out this year. One of them had been a girl named Jess, who had been a friend of mine, until I told the Principal I saw her by the bleachers one Friday afternoon. It was the truth, I had. But I didn't know that's what Harkness needed to "prove" that Jess was buying cigs off of someone else at that time and place.

I didn't actually know if she did. Jess had never been the smoker type to me, and I had never seen her do it before. For all I knew, she was innocent.

Jess had been the one who left 'Backstabbing Bitch' on my locker.

So yeah.

In front of Harkness sat Jason and the other boy, looking equally uncomfortable. They looked up when I entered, and their change in attention got Harkness to stop his rant on a drug-free lifestyle for two seconds to notice me, too.

"Ah, Katie, you're here!" Harkness welcomed me, but he sounded way too tense to actually seem friendly. Already feeling on edge, I sidled in and took the last seat in front of his desk, trying not to wince when he said, "So, you want to explain to me what's going on, or do I have to give you a recap, too?"

I stared at him, utterly silent. What was I supposed to say to that? "I don't know what you mean. What happened?"

Harkness squinted at me, like he thought I was being sarcastic. I kind of wasn't; I had a good feeling about what this was about, but I was going to wait until he proved me right, first. Harkness jerked a hand at Jason and said, "Jason here was found with cigarettes in his pocket. You mind telling me how he got them?"

I glanced at the other two boys, who returned the look with daggers. Did they get me involved with this? Why? They knew what I would do. Why say anything about me at all?

So, to Harkness, I said, "I guess he bought them. How else do you get cigarettes?"

Jason relaxed just a smidge beside me, while the other boy crossed his arms, his fingers tapping nervously. No way they would've told Harkness I was there. Why would they mention a witness to something no one wanted to talk about?

"Well, I got someone who says Jason got in a fight with Ian before second period. They were the only one who reported the fight, even though they mentioned all of you - including you, Katie - were there. So how come when I investigated, I found contraband material on both boys?"

"Because it was in their pockets?"

"Do you think this is funny, Katie?" Harkness demanded. "I asked you a question. I want a straight answer, now."

"What do you expect me to say?" I protested, holding out my hands. I didn't understand what Harkness was doing. Was he trying to get me to incriminate myself in something I didn't do? "I had nothing to do with the fight! I was just trying to get to class!"

I was pretty sure he already knew the fight and the cigarettes were related. Such a theory was confirmed when Harkness scowled, tapped his desk and said, "Why wee you there?"

"Because that's where my locker is. I was getting my textbooks."

"So you weren't there to buy cigarettes, either?"

"What? _No!"_ I snapped.

"Then why," Harkness asked, opening his drawer and pulling something out. It was a plastic bag, a little box inside. "Did I find cigarettes in your locker?"

I stared at the pack for two whole seconds, mind blown. "Those aren't mine! Wait, why did you search my locker? Don't you need a warrant for that?"

"This is my school, and the locker is school property. I don't need anyone's permission." Harkness replied, and for once he started to smile. Looking triumphant and crossing his arms, he asked, "So, what do you three have to say for yourselves?"

I blinked once before turning on Ian. "You _framed_ me?"

"What? So you can run your mouth on us like you did to that other girl?" the boy shot back. "I'm not an idiot! If we're going down, then you're going down with us."

"But I didn't say anything!" I said, my stomach dropping in dismay. I felt like I was going to be sick. I didn't think this could all go out of control so quickly. I didn't even _do_ anything, aside from listen, aside from _looking_.

Then I looked to Harkness, pointing at Ian, saying, "See? Those aren't mine! He even said it!"

Harkness frowned, rubbing his chin and glancing at the other boy. "Ian, is that true?"

The boy huffed and fell back in his chair, scowling at the floor. "I ain't saying nothing."

"Oh, come on, you heard him!" I said when Harkness didn't come to a verdict immediately. I knew if I didn't try hard enough, then I was going to get expelled - which something neither I nor my mom could afford. There was no other school to go to after this. Mom didn't have the money to send me to Bartleby's. It was either stay here, or be homeschooled by Obaasan, and that was the last thing I needed in my life at the moment.

Harkness looked a little peeved that I was pressuring him. He crossed his arms again and said, "Well, I think the answer is clear, here. You three can have a nice talk with Officer Jacobs about drug possession while I call each of your parents and inform them of what you've done."

"Wait, are you kicking us out?" Jason asked, suddenly wide-eyed.

"Those are the rules, Jason. You knew them when you broke them."

"But the team! They can't win without me! And when are they going to find a new player, huh, before the next game? The championship is in two weeks!"

Jason's plea actually seemed to be working. I gaped at Harkness as the man actually considered the boy's position, as if by virtue of having mediocre hand-eye coordination that made him somehow special enough to get out of _expulsion_. While here I was, actually innocent, and I might end up in the same boat as Ian.

"We'll have a talk with your parents and Coach Kenny, Jason, and see what they have to say," Harkness finally said, and I slumped in my chair, defeated. I was doomed. "You can't be a football player if you smoke, can you?"

"What? That's not fair!" Ian complained, but Harkness just brushed him off.

"You have your own case to make?" the principal asked, and Ian clamped his mouth shut. "That's what I thought."

"The game's rigged," Ian muttered to himself, just loud enough for me and Jason to here. Jason just smirked.

"For you," Harkness pointed at me. "You can go back to class, but you're suspended for the rest of the week.

"For _what_?" I snapped. I should've been relieved that I wasn't getting expelled, but I was still ticked I was being punished for someone else's crime.

"Make that two weeks, for backtalk," Harkness added, which just made the other two boys snicker. Harkness ignored them. "Consider what you've done. Imagine how disappointed your mother would be. And maybe next time think before you stick your nose where it doesn't belong, hm?"


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm sticking with the character background I had already established for Katie (single mom, overbearing grandmother) and its now I realized just how sucky I made her life, almost to a ridiculous extent. Oh well, I'll try to make it work.
> 
> Kind wanted to expand on Katie's strengths and weaknesses in this chapter; neither of them work out in her favor, though, mostly because she can't really utilize them correctly, or understands how it effects others. Hopefully it'll open up for more character growth later.
> 
> It's not always obvious within the text, but any words italicized with dialogue between Katie's family is usually supposed to represent it being spoken in another language, even if the word itself is English.

**Chapter Two**

* * *

 

"Katie, I'm very disappointed in you."

I groaned, my head falling back against the headrest. I _knew_ she was going to say that. "I know, Mom."

The car's engine rumbled loudly beneath my feet. We came to a stop and the brakes squealed, in desperate need of replacement. It was just another thing on the long list of things that needed to be done.

"What were you _thinking_?" she demanded, wringing one hand while she used the other to drive. She was still dressed in her factory uniform, and she smelled heavily of glue. "You know those boys are trouble! And look at you now, suspended and expelled! What are we supposed to do now?"

"I can't be suspended _and_ expelled," I said, a little displeased by her overreaction. But a part of me still felt bad making her stress out about it. I picked at the stuffing coming out of one tear in the seat. "Just suspended. Principal Harkness knows I didn't buy those cigarettes, that they were planted in my locker."

"Planted?"

"Yeah, this idiot kid named Ian put them there after he saw me. I guess he thought I'd rat him out."

"Did you?"

"Sort of, yeah."

Mom heaved a long-suffering sigh, running a hand through her hair. It was tied back into a bun, with black strands hanging out every which way. Along with the bags under her eyes, Mom looked disheveled and worn, which was the usual after working ten hours a day every week.

I thought I heard her mutter something in Japanese - either a curse or a prayer, it could've been either at the moment. Then she said louder, in English, "Principal Harkness called while I was at work. I had to ask for time off just to talk to him - do you know what my boss does to people who take time off? They -"

"Waste time and money, I know," I finished her sentence, resting my chin against my hand and leaning into the window. Mom used that line in every lecture, and it was now ingrained into my very soul. "I know I shouldn't have snooped! I know I shouldn't have said anything!"

"Then why did you?" Mom asked, flashing me an aggrieved look. When I didn't reply, she said, "I swear, Katie, sometimes it feels like you just go _looking_ for trouble. Is that what you want, trouble? Is there not enough in your life? Do you have to make mine more difficult, is that what you want?"

"No!" I snapped, angry and hurt. There was a burning behind my eyes at her accusations. Of course I didn't _want_ this. I didn't ask to be suspended. I just wanted...I wanted...

I didn't know what I wanted. This was just something I did. Trying to keep my voice steady, I mumbled, "I just wanted to do the right thing."

Mom frowned at me, and didn't say anything for a long moment. We came to a stop at a red light, cars lining up on either side. I looked out, taking in the overcast sky and the other drivers in the car, wanting to be anywhere else instead of here. We were passing through the middle of town to get home - there was the mall to our left and the supermarket to our right. An assortment of hardware stores, fast food restaurants, and banks filled the rest of the space, their neon signs hanging in the air, bright and flashing against the dark sky.

The light turned green and the car growled growled and jerked forward. The line of cars continued to the next light, which went red just before we could cross. Again, we stopped, again we waited.

"I am glad you try."

Her voice made me jump a little, and I glanced at her, wary. I knew there was going to be a 'but' in there eventually.

Mom sighed. " _But_ I wish you be smart about it. Choose your battles. Honesty is a double-edged sword, Katie. It can hurt you as much as it can help you."

"I'm not going to lie," I told her right off, crossing my arms. "What was I supposed to do, say those cigarettes were mine?"

"No. You should've said you saw nothing at all."

"And what, let Jason get off?" I demanded. As far as I knew, Jason was still in school and still on the team - as for punishment, he might not have gotten any at all. Meanwhile, Ian was expelled, and I was suspended. I realized that if I hadn't been there at all, their fates may not have changed one bit. "Not that it would've helped anyways. Harkness just wanted to get someone else to punish. It's not fair."

"Teachers do not just pick and choose who they want in trouble." Mom said, disbelieving.

" _He_ does!" I said, holding out my hands. It wasn't my fault I had to join Westfield High just as Harkness' Supreme Inquisition was about to take off. "He was mad I didn't report it when I should have -"

"And why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't want to get in trouble!" I shot back, utterly confused. Wait, so did Mom _want_ me to rat them out or not? I didn't understand what the right choice was - only that I made the wrong one. "Jeez, what else could I do? Either I'm in trouble with the teachers or everyone else hates me. Or both. I can't win!"

"It's not about _winning_ ," Mom said, sounding a little testy. "It's about graduating. Don't you want to go to college?"

"Of course I do!" I snapped, pressing a hand to my temple. That was the argument Mom always fell back on - don't you want to succeed? Don't you want to have a job, have money? "I'm just - I'm just trying to figure it out, okay? Can you just let me figure it out on my own?"

Mom scowled as she turned the wheel. The first drops of rain hit the windshield. "You are only fifteen, Katie. You have your whole life ahead of you. Please do not ruin your chances with these-these silly antics of yours." she gestured vaguely with her hand.

"It's not _silly_ ," I protested, angry that she just dismissed it like that. It wasn't stupid that I didn't want to lie - that I refused to. Actually, I thought Mom might've been proud of me for that, since I never lied to her, but of course I judged wrong. Maybe she didn't believe me, or maybe she thought I was only using it as an excuse. For what? I didn't know. I just knew she didn't approve.

Neither did Obaasan, but at least Mom was nice about it. "Isn't that the point, though? Isn't telling the truth a good thing?"

Mom just sighed, closing her eyes for a second before opening them again. "Sometimes there are greater things than the truth, Katie."

"Okay, sure," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "That makes total sense."

But Mom just shook her head, with that kind of wisdom that only comes from years of learning. "When you're older, you'll understand."

Then, before I could challenge that idea, Mom deftly changed the topic. "After I drop you off at home, I have to do groceries. I need you to help Obaasan with dinner, okay? You can do your homework after you are done."

She said this because homework was my go-to excuse when it came to avoiding chores. Not that I had a lot of trouble or anything, and a lot of times I _did_ have way more homework than I could handle, but it was definitely the better option than having to deal with Obaasan and her demands.

I heaved a long sigh, crossing my arms as I pouted. "If she makes me clean the floor again, I'm blaming you."

* * *

It was already pouring by the time Mom pulled up into the driveway of the little blue ranch house. We lived on the outskirts of town. There were fields and trees around us, and a few other houses around.

The driveway consisted of dirt turned entirely into mud by the rain. Mom waved to me as I ducked out the car and made a mad dash for the front porch.

She had already pulled out again as I opened the door. I waved good-bye before heading inside, kicking off my dirty shoes and slipping out of my jacket before heading into the kitchen. I could hear the TV playing some talk show, and I peered in, I saw my grandmother sitting at the table, sipping tea as she watched in silence.

Although her back was to me, Obaasan was practically telepathic, because she said, "Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to wash the dishes?"

I frowned but decided not to start another argument. I already had two today and that was enough for me.

Obaasan's tiny frame belied just how much bitterness that woman contained. She was a shorter, more wrinkly version of my mother, black hair now almost entirely gray, and knobbly fingers that could slap the lips off your mouth. I could feel her eyes on me as I went over to the sink, turning on the faucet and getting out the soap and sponge. Our dishwasher was broken since last May, and kept flooding the floor every time we used it.

I got blamed for that. Obaasan pinned it on me, even though no one really knew what went wrong. Now I was stuck washing dishes until we got a new one. Which might be never, probably.

"Where is your mother?" Obaasan asked as I started scrubbing plates.

"She's at the grocery store," I replied, careful to keep my tone neutral. "I think to get more rice and milk."

"Milk?" Obaasan demanded. "Why do we need milk? She knows it upsets my stomach."

I licked my lips, glanced over my shoulder to gauge her expression. Obaasan always had a pinched look about her face, like she was constantly sucking on a lemon. "The milk's, um, for me. I'm not done growing yet."

She snorted behind me. "You look plenty grown to me, girl. You need more _food_ , not _milk_. All bones and no meat. Pah! No wonder you can't get a boyfriend."

I glowered out the window over the sink, across the frozen wheat field into the gray sky beyond. I was tall for my age, already outgrowing both Obaasan and Mom; maybe something I got from my dad. And through a lovely combination of genetics, diet (or lack of), and exercise I didn't exactly have the kind of hips or boobs I wanted.

Of course, that's my fault, too. My grip tightened around the sponge and letting loose a stream of bubbles. I couldn't break _that_ , at least.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself to keep my head. If I so much as revealed a hint of emotion, this woman would latch on and tear me apart. "The boys at my school are all idiots, Obaasan. They can barely put their clothes on, never mind hold down a job."

"But they have parents that can get them one," Obaasan shot back. It was, unfortunately, a good point. There was a tinkle of china as she set down her teacup. She must've heard the noise I made at that. "What, you think you're better than that? I got that call, girl. Don't think I don't know what's going on at your school. No one wants a girl who can't keep her mouth shut."

"I wasn't expelled -"

"No, you were suspended!" there was a bang as Obaasan hit the table with her hand, rattling the china. It made me jump and drop the plate I was holding. Luckily, I had accrued a pool of water in the sink, so it only make a loud splash instead of breaking at the bottom. "No school! And what do you think you're going to do all day for the next two weeks? Sit around and do nothing?"

"No, of course not -" I snapped, finally turning to look at her.

"Haven't you already made it hard enough on your mother?" Obaasan demanded, fixing me with a look that could melt iron.

I bit my lip, trying to hold that gaze, but failed. "I didn't mean -"

"Hasn't she done enough for you?" Obaasan went on like I didn't even say anything. Maybe she didn't care. Obaasan had no patience for excuses, no matter the occasion. "My daughter has worked and sweated and suffered for everything you have and this is how you repay her? _Have you no shame_?"

"I'm not -!" I tried to get a word in edgewise, but there were tears stinging in my eyes and I knew she knew I lost it. Once more Obaasan pierced whatever shields I had up and found all my weak points. She knew them so well at this point - heck, she was the reason these things bothered me so much in the first place.

"Everything we did was for you," Obaasan said, shaking her head in disdain. "I came to this country for you and your mother. I helped her with the house, with the job. I even helped with her ungrateful bastard, who can't even honor her mother's hard work by staying in school and doing her chores. If you were _my_ child, I would have kicked you out onto the street by now."

And that was the heart of it. Obaasan kept no pretense that she loved me. She despised my very existence since before I was born - since she met my father, some strange legend of a man whom I've only ever heard of but never met, and no one as seen since the day he left my mother.

I tasted bile on my tongue, and even though I was so angry I was shaking and dripping water everywhere, I was able to speak with an almost-smile. "Well, at least my mom didn't turn out like hers."

It felt so good to say, but I regretted it instantly afterwards. Obaasan launched from her seat, face flaring red, and I scrambled back, suddenly terrified she was going to come around and hit me.

Instead, she hissed. " _Apologize_."

I stared at her. Any apology I gave would be insincere - and even if I wanted to take it back, I wouldn't. "No."

Obaasan stabbed her finger into the table, her nail gouging into the wood. "Do it now, _warugaki_! Or else!"

I didn't appreciate being called a brat, especially from someone like her. I backed into the counter, saying, "No! And I'd be lying if I did!"

" _Foul child!_ " Obaasan accused. When she got angry, Obaasan slipped completely into Japanese. I didn't know if it was on purpose or not, if she was still in control or, like me, also a victim to her emotions, but I understood her nonetheless. " _Your mother should have abandoned you in that hospital, like your coward of a father did to her. It'd only be right, and at least she would keep her honor_!"

Tears started streaming down my face about half-way through her rant; I couldn't keep a straight face anymore, and my face was red with embarrassment, because we both knew she was winning, and there was nothing I could say to prove her wrong.

" _Kusobabaa_!" I shouted the meanest word I could think of, directly insulted Obaasan's age and attitude. It got the effect I was going for, though, and I watched with a small glimmer of satisfaction as the woman bristled and recoiled like I poked her with a hot iron.

And before she could retaliate, I darted out of kitchen, covering my face with my hands as the sob I had been holding in broke from my throat. I could hear Obaasan calling after me as I skidded into my room and slammed the door behind me.

" _You better run!_ " I heard the old woman shout, and I could just imagine her shaking her fist at me. " _Just like your father! Hide away and cry your little tears, girl, because you'll find no sympathy here!"_

I collapsed on my bed, punching my pillow in helpless frustration before pressing my face into, dissolving into my own misery.

* * *

I guess it goes without saying that I was grounded.

Mom came home to a sour Obaasan and a inconsolable daughter, and no rice cooking, and was rather confused on the matter. Well, confused and beleaguered, since this wasn't a new situation for her.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the night, curling up in my bed with the blankets over my head and feeling sorry for myself. I had locked the door in case Obaasan got any ideas, but right now I didn't have to worry about that. I could hear her and Mom arguing in the kitchen, interrupting and talking over each other in Japanese.

It was hard to follow, and part of me didn't want to hear any more yelling because it just made me more upset. But the gist of it was Obaasan complaining about me, Mom complaining about Obaasan, and Obaasan demanding how her daughter, who turned out so nicely, ruined it all and allowed her own child to grow up rebellious and uncouth.

As I looked up the word 'uncouth' in the dictionary I kept on my nightstand (always nice to have when eavesdropping on arguments), Mom and Obaasan fell into another argument about food and bills, which was tangentially related to me in some way, if Obaasan had anything to say about it.

I was glad and grateful Mom was defending me. I didn't know why, since our last argument indicated that I should've said anything that would've made Obaasan happy. But I was sure I was going to get a lecture, too, when everything died down a bit.

Obaasan tried to bring up my father a few times, trying to place blame, but Mom always evaded the subject. Why? I wasn't sure, but I wondered if maybe she still had a soft spot for him. It seemed crazy, and I had to admit, even the people I knew best still managed to surprise me from time to time.

Mom had loved him, once upon a time. Did she still? I had a sneaking suspicion is was maybe it was nostalgia. According to her, he had been 'charming, funny, a man who wasn't ashamed of himself despite what he was.' I think that meant he was homeless or something, but Obaasan called him a _gaijin_ , or outsider - specifically, he was a White guy, and very much unwelcome in the Matsuda home.

I wasn't entirely sure why Mom took him in, and she had always been vague on the topic. At the time, she worked as a nurse in the hospital and took pity on a man with no place to stay.

It definitely wouldn't be something I'd do.

She definitely didn't earn any favor from Obaasan by letting the man stay until he was fully healed, nor when such an act inevitably led into a relationship of some sort. Which then led to me.

My father disappeared before Mom could tell him she was pregnant. She, of course, assumed he already figured it out and left before he could deal with any of the consequences. She had been mad at him, of course, but apparently not mad enough, since she signed my birth certificate with his last name.

That probably sealed the deal with Obaasan. Never mind that I didn't look anything like him (as far as I knew), but Mom really kind of killed any chances I had of making up for his mistakes by making me a 'Collapsar' instead of a 'Matsuda'. I had to admit, it was one of the few things I agreed with Obaasan, as much as it pained me. What kind of name was Collapsar, anyways?

His name had been Kitt Collapsar, which was already kind of a weird name, if my Google searches of him came up with absolutely zilch. Mom had told me there had been trouble with him at the hospital way back when; he didn't have a social security number, no passport or wallet or ID - although he _did_ have an accent. British, maybe, or Welsh, Mom couldn't remember.

He had just appeared one day in the hospital, beat up and covered in burns, from a pile of smoldering ruins that might've once been a car found out in a field, apparently having been hit by something and driven off the road. No witnesses, and police could never find out what really happened.

Kitt Collapsar had disappeared much like he had arrived: No clues or trace of who he was or where he came from.

He had claimed to have been a sailor, a captain even, who cargoed food and supplies across the world. It sort of made sense at the time, since Virginia is next to the Atlantic, but the town of Glendower itself was not. We were far inland, closer to Kentucky than the ocean. What had he been doing all the way out here?

It was just another mystery that would never be solved.

I ruminated on this, because I had nothing better to do. My thoughts and emotions were too intertwined for me to focus on doing anything like homework. And even if I wanted to, I couldn't - I left my backpack in the kitchen, and I was not going to risk leaving my room to get it.

I stared at my ceiling, at my room, letting my mind go blank so I didn't have to think about anything else.

My room was the smallest in the house, not that I had much to fill it with anyways. The bed, dresser, and desk took up most of the room; the rest of the wall was either occupied with my closet door, or a multitude of posters I collected. Some of them were from movies, but the others from boy bands I listened to - the members faces outlined with red hearts and stickers.

...What? Their music made me feel happy, which was a lot more than I could say for some of the other things in my life.

Sure, maybe I'd never meet a guy that would understand me like the songs did, but a girl could dream, couldn't she?

My computer, a laptop, was five years old and by that definition, ancient. We already had slow Internet, but my lousy computer processor made it feel even slower, and all it was really good for was doing homework and chatting on message boards. I could type faster than the computer could register and it was absolutely frustrating.

I had other things, too, like toys and dolls from my childhood. I was sort of embarrassed to have them just out in the open like this, on my bed and my shelves, but my closet was full of clothes and even older toys and a crap ton of books, so there was really nowhere else to put them.

I guess I didn't mind it so much. It wasn't like I invited any friends over - you needed friends in the first place to do that. Besides, I actually really liked my Barbies; at least they had cool clothes, and I imagined them going on the types of adventures I could never hope to have.

I could smell food cooking, but even my grumbling stomach couldn't convince me to get up and face the music. An hour passed and I was getting hungrier, but still I couldn't move. I heard people moving in the house, a quiet conversation between mother and daughter, for once not an argument. Maybe they were tiptoeing around each other - the last argument seemed to last too long, and now no one wanted to approach one another.

Eventually, there came a knock on the door. "Katie? Are you up?"

Mom. I peeked out from my sheets, eyeing the shadow under the doorway. I didn't know if I should say something or not, if I was ready, and apparently I waited too long, because I heard her sigh and say, "I'm not here to argue with you. I just wanted to tell you your dinner's in the kitchen. I left it on the counter, under a lid. You can warm it up when you're ready."

I thought she'd walk away then, and for a second, Mom did - her shadow disappearing. But it returned a few seconds later.

She spoke again, her voice quieter, so soft I had to strain to hear. "I just...you know I love you, right? I'm not angry. I just want what's best for you. That's all."

I knew right away I should've done something - got up, said something, opened the door. Reaffirm that I knew, that I loved her, too.

But my own fear, my own indecision, kept me from acting, and before I knew it, Mom had already walked away. I started, a jolt of regret flying through me, but then I stopped, knowing it was too late. Like an idiot, I had willingly let another opportunity slip through my fingers.

I closed my eyes and sighed, falling back into my bed.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first and greatest victory is to conquer yourself; to be conquered by yourself is of all things most shameful and vile. - Plato

**Chapter Three**

 

* * *

 

_Whak!_

"Again!"

_Thwack!_

"Again!"

_Thunk!_

Once more, I struck the dummy, and once more I stepped too far with my foot. My angle was wrong and the bokken struck the incorrect spot. I gritted my teeth and tried to hide a growl of frustration in my _kiai_ , but I mustn't have done a good job, since the sensei called again from behind me:

" _Yame!_ "

I dropped the wooden sword, falling back into a ready stance, before Asamo-Sensei ordered me to sit down. Disgruntled, I followed suit, crossing my legs beneath me, knowing what was going to come next.

It had been a week since I'd been suspended, and the tension at home hadn't eased up in the slightest. In fact, I was pretty sure it had gotten _worse_. It sure as hell didn't help when Obaasan found out I had skipped out on my last two Kendo practices (in order to catch up on homework, but did that matter to her? Nope). How did she know? I wasn't sure. Maybe the smell of my gym bag just wasn't right or something.

Either way, she had jumped me the other day, while I was doing the dishes again.

Her voice had been like a ghost jumping out to haunt me. " _Mago_ , have you been practicing lately? Asamo-Sensei called me from the dojo - you haven't shown up in recent days."

I nearly jumped out of my socks. I had been keeping to myself at the time, and decided to do my chores at that specific time because Obaasan usually took a nap early afternoon, but clearly the old woman anticipated this, and caught me unawares. Glancing at the woman warily, fearing those beady eyes, I said, "No."

To lie was tempting, but it would be pointless. Grandmother never believed anything I said anyways. I explained myself before the woman could blow a gasket: "Because I've had a lot of homework lately, and I can't waste three hours every day swinging around a wooden sword."

"Wasting?" The old woman had spat, and I realized only too late my poor word choice. Me and my big mouth. "This is tradition! You're forsaking the family name! Unless you're telling me you don't care about what your family has done for you. What your _mother_ did for you."

"Don't guilt me into this!" I had shot back. Of course she'd used the Mom Card, of course she did. It was one of the many ways she knew how to hurt me. "Mom made her own choice and _left_. She didn't do that for me. She probably hates this family more than I do."

_Smack!_

"Enough!" Grandmother said, withdrawing her hand. My cheek stung from the slap, but I didn't make a move to touch it. She jabbed a gnarled finger towards the door. "Go to your room, and don't come out until I say so."

I remembered wanting to yell at her. I remembered wanting to hit back. What I actually did was obey her order, stalking out with my shoulders hunched and head bowed, and all without shedding a single tear. I wasn't going to let her win a _second_ time.

"Katie? Katie, are you listening to me?"

Asamo-Sensei's voice snapped me back to reality. I shook my head, realized the _men_ was still on, and pulled it off, my hair going all over the place. When I looked at Sensei, he was sitting next to me, a line of concern between his brow. "Katie, are you all right?"

He was using my first name, and not any honorific, which meant this was not going to be a conversation about my technique. I averted my gaze, wishing that I hadn't been so obvious. I have a half-hearted shrug. "I guess so."

It wasn't a lie, technically, but Asamo-Sensei still looked doubtful. "Is that so? You seem distracted lately."

I could hear the unasked question in his voice, but I refused to face it. "I've had a lot of stuff on my mind. No big deal. What does this have to do with training?"

"Maybe nothing," Asamo-Sensei shrugged. He was about my mother's age, with thick dark hair and light stubble. I couldn't remember if he was married or not. I'd be surprised if he was still single. "Maybe everything. Your strikes are off, Katie, you're swinging too hard at the wrong angle. Do that enough times and you're going to break the bokken. You know that, right?"

I nodded glumly, a little peeved that he was questioning my judgment. Of course I knew that. Even a novice knew that. I've been at this for years now; I really _shouldn't_ be this bad now.

In fact, I had done my best to hide my frustrations from Sense. I didn't need another lecture from someone who thought they knew everything. The thing is, I hated Kendo, and I hated having to come here and pretend that I didn't. Maybe Asamo had a clue of that; I didn't have any friends amongst the other students, and I didn't participate in any of the mingling before or after class. I just wanted to get in, practice, and get out without wasting any more time.

This was a little different, though. He had made me hang around after the session was done to put in extra work, mostly for the time I wasn't here the last couple times. It was frustrating, but at least I had the whole dojo to myself, and no one else but Asamo to judge me.

I thought it would be easy. Just fifteen minutes of practice before I could go home. Mom was probably waiting outside for me right now. I wondered what she was thinking at the moment.

I guess in my rush to finish things, I had lost some of my skill. Sensei was bound to notice something eventually, I guess.

"You're better than this, Katie. This is a simple mistake, but you keep repeating it, over and over. This isn't something I'd expect someone like you to make, so I have the feeling that your attentions are elsewhere. Please, tell me, what's the problem?"

"There's no problem," I said, throwing him a look over my shoulder. I just wanted to rip off these black robes and go home, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. Asamo wouldn't just let me ditch it all like that. My mother certainly wouldn't. "Like I said, I've got a lot of stuff on my mind. Important stuff."

"More important than Kendo?" he asked, but the smirk on his face said that Asamo was more amused than accusing.

"Maybe," I muttered, putting at the hems of my sleeves. Of all people, it was most difficult to be honest with Asano. I was afraid of what he'd think, what he'd say; I wanted him to think the best of me, but I also pretty sure he knew I was better than the average kiss-up. "So what if I do?"

"I just want to know," Asamo-Sensei said, his head tilting slightly at my answer. "So I can help in any way I can. I want you to do well in this class, Katie, but that's not going to happen unless you want it, too."

"I know," I said quietly, looking down at the mat, because I couldn't admit the fact that I didn't want it at all.

I had not joined the local Kendo class of my own volition. It had been Obaasan's idea, as a way for me to better connect with my heritage, or so she said. But I knew what she really wanted from me: discipline, and obedience. A healthy respect for my elders.

Yeah, good luck with that.

"Well, I'm glad you know," Asamo-Sensei said, slightly teasing, and I dared another look at him. There was a curious smile on his face, like he knew what I wasn't saying. "Whatever's more important than Kendo...it doesn't have anything to do with you causing trouble at school, has it?"

"Yeah, because it's always my fault," I muttered without thinking, then winced at my own tactlessness. I glanced at him and said quickly, "Sorry, Sensei. I don't mean to offend you."

But Asamo-Sensei just raised a hand, chuckling softly. "It's all right, Katie. I'm not trying to put you on the spot. I just want to know what's going on. Hear your side of the story."

I liked Asamo — he had kind, dark eyes and a smile that made me proud to earn. He was one of the few adults in my life I felt I could trust. But I was in such a bad mood that none of it rang true to me. I brought up my knees, hugging them and resting my chin on top. "What does it matter? Mom probably told you everything."

"Your mother is concerned about you," Asamo-Sensei said, quietly reprimanding. He gestured towards himself. "And so do I. Come on, I'm allowed to be worried about my students. Is it true you skipped our last sessions because of homework?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" Asamo had an excellent poker face, but I could see the hurt in his eyes, and it only made me feel worse. "Or your mother? I think it would've saved some trouble in the long run."

"I thought it'd be easier," I said. Easier in that I was lazy, and I didn't want to face any critical pressure from either of them. "I didn't think you'd understand."

"Katie, I am fully capable of understanding why school work is more important than your extracurriculars. Sometimes a student has to prioritize. But failing to inform me tells me that you don't consider Kendo in any way important to your life. Am I correct?"

"It wasn't my idea to join," I said, my voice a little sharper than it should've been. Obaasan had signed me up years ago, when I was only eight. I didn't have a say then, and only now I felt rebellious enough to speak against it. "It feels like a waste of time — er, no offense, Sensei."

He nodded slowly, pursing his lips as he considered my words. "Well, I have to admit, it's a little hard to hear that one of my best students actually despises the class."

I flushed, both flattered and utterly ashamed. My hatred had nothing to do with Asamo or his teaching methods; just all the stress I endured to keep up. I worked hard here because I was terrified of Obaasan's judgement. "I don't like disappointing you...but Obaasan gets angry if I don't do well."

"So its fear that guides you," Asamo-Sensei mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. I watched his expression carefully, surprised he was taking this with such nonchalance. "Well, that explains why you always seem so energized. But fear shouldn't be why you do this, Katie. A reluctant student doesn't learn the same way as one that enjoys it."

I snorted, muttering under my breath. "Obaasan doesn't know the meaning of joy."

"That is one bitter woman," Asamo remarked casually, earning a shocked look from me. No one dared bad mouth my grandmother without facing the consequences. He smiled at my reaction. "Sacrilege, I know. And she'll probably kill me for telling you this, but my devotion to my students is greater than my fear for Matsuba-sama's wrath."

Then he rested a hand on my shoulder, giving me an earnest look. "You're old enough to decide who you want to be, Katie. You might not have the right answer yet, and maybe you don't have anything planned out, but you are the only one who knows what you truly happy. If you want to quit, I'll allow it. I'll even speak to your grandmother in case she gets any funny ideas.

"But right now, Katie, your life is at a crossroads, and I think that you need to focus on order to make the best decision. And to do that, you don't need any extra distractions. So it's up to you to decide what you have to do next. Do you truly feel this way about Kendo?"

"It's the truth. I-I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for something you can't help," Asamo-Sensei said. "Just tell me something, so I don't feel like I've wasted my time all these years, too. What have you learned so far?"

I had to think about it for a moment. Asamo probably meant more than just swinging a stick at a dummy like a piñata — he probably meant, like, character-building stuff. Things that I wasn't even sure I had, but at least I had the words to: "Discipline, I think. You've taught me not to lash out, not to lose control, even...even when I want to."

I closed my eyes, still hearing the sound of Obaasan's slap. The only reason I didn't fight back was because of my training here, and knowing it was wrong to abuse any of my strength that way. "I'd say obedience, too, but I don't really care for obedience."

"Not many in your generation do," Asamo-Sensei nodded wisely, and I was glad that at least I managed this much. "It takes great strength to fight, Katie. It takes even more not to. And while you may be difficult to work with at times, I trust in your sense of right and wrong, and that hopefully in the future you can make the correct choices regarding whose lead you should follow. Be it someone else's, or yourself. Anything else?"

I smiled slightly, a little encouraged by this. "Um...respect. You taught me that respect is earned, not owed. That someone doesn't deserve it just because they're older, or smarter, or-or because they say so."

"Hm," Asamo-Sensei seemed mildly surprised by this, making a face. "Well, I can't say that was entirely intentional on my part. But I see your point. Respect means different things to different people. Be careful not to offend the wrongs ones, Katie. I doubt your grandmother will be the only opposition you'll ever face in your life."

"Psh," I huffed, tossing my head and glaring at the floor. Of course, another lesson within a lesson. Nothing I say couldn't go uncriticized. If people didn't get the respect they wanted, too bad. I wouldn't want to deal with them anyways. "Whatever."

"While I'm proud that you've learned so much Katie, remember," Asamo-Sensei went on as though he hadn't heard me. It was probably easier that way, not starting something. I happened to be very good at holding my end of an argument. "You still have a lot to learn. Not just as a student, but as a human. I learn things every day, and I find my life all the more different for it. Try not to ignore everything you think is unimportant, Katie. Just because it doesn't seem to affect you doesn't mean it won't. And try to consider what the consequences of your actions really mean. Your youth rarely protects your against the words that leave your mouth."

"Hey!" I said, snapping my head back at him, ready to complain. "That's not —"

"Oh, look, your mother's here," Asamo interrupted me without a wasted breath, looking up just as the door opened behind us. I looked around, saw Mom peeking her head in, giving the both of us a curious look. Asamo said behind me, "Don't mind us, just having one of those inspiring TV conversations, that's all."

"Your idea of 'inspiring' sucks," I said to him, then getting up and heading towards my mom before I could get any flack for that.

"Hey, kiddo," Mom greeted me with a quiet hug and a kiss to the forehead. "How'd practice go?"

"There was a lot more talking involved than usual," I said with a straight face. Mom gave me a skeptical look, so I added, "So yeah, I hated it."

"I'd be more surprised if you didn't," Mom sighed, running a hand through her hair. I realized with a flush of embarrassment and surprise that I did the same thing when I was tired; did I really copy her mannerisms like that? How did I never notice before? "Well, how about you go and change? I want to talk to Asamo for a little bit."

Well, that spoke volumes as to just how much trouble I was in. I didn't really eavesdrop on a lot of Mom's conversations with Asamo, but she shared enough with him that I knew they were talking about me more than half the time. It must be really stressful for Mom to have to look for outside guidance like this.

I wasn't sure if I should be proud of my rebellion having an effect, or ashamed that it was hurting Mom, who was the last person I wanted to overwork right now. She had enough things to deal with all ready; I didn't want her to think of me as just another burden in her life.

So I nodded silently and made my way back to the girls' changing room, collecting my bokken before disappearing into the tiled walls. I could hear Mom and Asamo's hushed conversation, muffled by the door, as I changed back into jeans and my favorite green hoodie. I didn't particularly care that I wrinkled my _bogu_ as I stuffed them into my duffel bag. I didn't intend to use them again for a long time.

My tennis shoes were in the rack by the door, and as I made my way out, duffel bag over my shoulder, I said to the room at large, "I'll just wait for you in the car."

Mom gave me a quick okay before diving back into her conversation with Asamo, lowering her voice even more as I stuffed my feet into my shoes. They were both speaking Japanese, although I wasn't sure why, because I could still understand what they said. Maybe they just thought speaking in another language just made it more private or something.

What I heard had nothing to do with me, and I was a little disappointed. Mom was talking about some inner-office scandal at one of her jobs, and it wasn't until I was in the car did I realize she might've done that on purpose — so I couldn't overhear their talk about me.

Damn. It must be really bad if she was playing tricks on me now.

I sighed, flopping into the driver's seat and leaning my head back into the car. I only had my learner's license, so I could only drive when Mom (or, god forbid, Obaasan) was in the car, too. It didn't lessen the desire to drive off right away, though, leaving everything behind. Mom even left the car keys inside.

But I wasn't feeling particularly _Bonnie-and-Clyde_ tonight. I had no energy left for rebellion. A week's worth of exhaustion had taken place of whatever self-righteousness I had left. I didn't want to do anything. I just wanted to close my eyes and drift off, forget the world even existed. Maybe it might forget me, too.

Then the car lit up like it was suddenly daylight. Startled, I looked up at the window, gaping at the brilliant shooting star arcing across the sky.

 _Whoa_ — that had to be the biggest one I had ever seen. The meteor was so big and bright it overtook the whole Moon.

As it continued to sail across the black sky, I frowned. Was it just me, or was that thing getting awfully close —

 _BOOM_.

The shot of light disappeared behind the distant tree line — before exploding in a huge flare. The sky lit up like it was daytime, the moon eclipsed, and everything cast in stark light and long shadows. The ground shook from impact; the whole car shifted beneath me, making me grab the seat in shock.

"Holy shit!" I cried out, blinded by the blast. Only too late did I realize that the meteor was making for touchdown.

A cloud of birds burst into the air in giant, weaving clouds, startled by the blast, and I felt a shift in the Earth as a massive wind traveled across land, tossing debris and making the windows rattle.

And just as soon as it came, the light was gone. My ears rang in the deafening silence — as I came back to my senses, I could hear car and making me grab the seat in fear.

My immediate thought was that it was an atomic bomb, that the Russians finally decided they had enough of us crazy Yankees and started World War Three to order to kill us off; a theory quickly dissuaded as there was no mushroom cloud, and, you know, I was still breathing, which would not be happening if the bomb had landed as close as... _whatever that was_ had.

I sat there, hyperventilating for a solid two minutes, watching as the faint orange glow appeared above the trees where the meteor had landed. Should I do something? If only I had caught that on camera — this was going to go _viral_ by tomorrow.

Of course, that was my second thought to all this. First, atomic bomb, second: internet fame. Maybe that's just my innate Millennial nature, or maybe I had found my inner opportunist. I could do with a little fame and fortune, anyways.

The crash site didn't look too far away, maybe twenty miles at the most. Somewhere on the outskirts of town, deep in the woods. I knew the roads like the back of my hand, and my phone had full battery, primed for video-taking. I could drive there, easy.

I sat back in my seat, taking the wheel and sighing to myself. I glanced at the dojo, the silhouettes of Mom and Asamo still talking. I was already in a heap of trouble as it was — why would I make it worse? Staying right here was the _smart_ thing to do.

 ******* However, as I continued to watch the flickering orange light, a strange sensation came over me. My skin tingled and the hair on the back of my neck went on end — and my eyes focused on the orange lights, knowing that something more was going on.

It wasn't quite curiosity. It wasn't necessarily about the comet. It was a sense of _knowing_...a _presence_ that was never there before. A _need_ to do something.

...But what?

I felt it, like this strange pull in my gut, trying to tell me something I didn't understand. A part of me wanted to chalk it up to just my nerves, the fear, the shock, but the sensation felt _deeper_ than that. It felt wrong to treat it as anything less.

I had no idea what it was, and I had never felt it before, ever, in my life. This was special, somehow. So what did it mean?

All I knew was that bright light had something to do with it, and the only way I was going to find the answer was to go towards it. I _needed_ to go towards it.

I reached for the ignition, then stopped myself, shaking my head. _Whoa, slow your horses, Katie_. _This is completely crazy. You're off your rocker if you just run off like this_. Why would I want to get involved in something that was not my business? For all I knew, that blast started a forest fire, and I did _not_ need to put myself in danger over some stupid gut feeling I had.

...and yet, it didn't feel stupid. At least, not that I could tell. There was no immediate sign of danger. But it was there, a nagging sensation that made my head buzz and fingers twitch. The longer I resisted, the stronger the pull became; turning from urgency to threat, then threat to fear. It wasn't me.

Something — no, _someone_ — was out there.

And they needed my help.

I guess that was why I started the car and sped out of the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A link to what Katie looks like, if you're interested (just take away the spaces) - ht tp: . tumblr 2d239c2e55298c0484f232fdad6882f1/ tumblr_ nvmm31OvcP1u3c0h1o1_1280. jpg
> 
> *** A/N: If you're familiar with the Star Wars soundtrack (and let's be honest, if you like Star Wars, you probably are), I imagined this particular part of the scene to feature the song Tales of a Jedi (from A New Hope), that beginning six-note tune on the strings you hear. The movies play that little ditty a lot, to signal a ripple in the Force, like one Jedi sensing the presence of another, or some other disturbance they don't know yet what to make of. It sounds wonderful and mysterious, and denotes a change in the way Katie interacts with the world.
> 
> Three guesses as to what she's gonna find at that crash site :D
> 
>  
> 
> Bogu - Equipment (robes) used in Kendo – men, kote, do and tare
> 
> Bokken - wooden sword
> 
> Men - equipment that covers head
> 
> Kiai - Vocalization of spirit, or battle cry
> 
> Mago - shorthand for grandchild
> 
> Obaasan - Grandmother
> 
> Sensei - Teacher/Master
> 
> Yame - Stop


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted. - Aesop

**Chapter Four**

* * *

 

 _Mom, please don't kill me_.

I didn't start seeing anything odd until about twenty minutes in, and the orange glow became brighter, more focused — and I saw that it wasn't just orange, but there was bits of blue and green flashing as well, like spotlights.

So...probably _not_ a fire.

Then the trees suddenly disappeared — their absence made me slow down, surprised, until I realized they weren't _gone_ per se, but flattened, like what you see happening in a landslide or hurricane. The blast had been so powerful it stripped leaves and branches right off the trunks.

The road became scorched and bumpy, huge cracks rendering the tarmac nearly impassible. The car's suspension groaned and squeaked in protest of the rough treatment. I kept going, slower and slower, until a felled tree blocked my way.

With some cursing, I jerked the car in park before turning it off and getting out, slamming the door. Great. Just great. How was I going to get past this?

The log was too big to lift — I tried and only managed to hurt my back. Rolling it proved fruitless as well — too many branches and I was going up a hill. There was nowhere else for it to go. I did what I should've done in the first place and just climbed over it, getting my jeans covered in gross tree sap in the process.

I had to continue by foot, stepping around rocks and more trees, as well as an obscene amount of dirt. I came across other cars, also abandoned, some crashed with trees on their hoods, doors ajar. I checked each one, but found no one. Whoever got stuck here decided to either get help or check out the scene for themselves. No one seemed to have been killed, which was extraordinarily lucky. I was just glad it wasn't worse.

The orange glow was so close now, I could actually feel a change in temperature. It was getting warmer the higher up I went. It was just beyond this hill; I was so close that I could barely contain myself. I could see shadows moving at the top; people moving? That meant there were other bystanders, other witnesses. Or maybe there were survivors.

...Wait, survivors? I frowned at myself. Why would I think there were survivors? This was a _meteor landing_ , wasn't it? No humans need apply. Unless it landed on a house or something...

Only when I got to the top, I realized it wasn't a hill at all. As I pushed through the remaining brush, I found myself at the edge of a huge crater — the rim of which I had just been climbing.

At the very center of the crater sat a pile of smoking, twisted metal. A loud screech fill the air — not something about to explode, but some emergency siren going off. The crash had rendered the craft nearly unrecognizable, so I couldn't tell what kind of plane it was. Because it had to be a plane, right? What else could it be?

Surrounding the edges of the crater were silhouettes of other people, bystanders and witnesses who wanted a closer view of the disaster before them. Not a lot happened in this town, so anything bigger than the average affair between office coworkers was bound to bring all sorts of attention. Who knows, the whole town was probably going to be here in the next couple hours. People in the next town over will be, too. And the local cops, the state police, the FBI. A lot of people.

"Ah, what a mess,"

The voice made me jump. I looked around to see a man standing nearby, middle-aged and wearing a plaid shirt and red cap. The badge on his shirt said he drove a semi. He glanced at me and said, "Saw it on the highway and pulled over. Looked like a plane going down."

I looked back and frowned. More people appeared from the trees; curious civilians drawn to the destruction. The plane's lights were still working, flashing in sync with the alarm that was starting to peter out with the dying engines.

"Well, better check for survivors," the trucker harrumphed, lumbering down the slope. I hung back, taking a second to catch my breath as other bystanders approached the ruins. Some were trying to call, but from the looks of the shaking and cursing, they weren't getting much of a signal. I couldn't see any signs of life from where I stood; to be honest, I wasn't very hopeful of the prospect of finding anyone still breathing in that kind of mess.

Yet as the smoke started to clear, and I started to get a little closer, I became less convinced it was civilian aircraft. The general shape was far too squarish to be any kind of plane I recognized. It was too small to be an airliner, but it was larger than a jet. My foot crunched on something and I looked down — I had stepped on a silver crinkled package. Ripped at one corner, something like cereal spilling out.

Food? Space food?

I had been to the NASA museum in Florida once, and the guide had presented what the astronauts ate in space. Dehydrated food, kept in heatless vacuum packets that wouldn't burst in zero gravity.

What kind of airplane carried space food?

Or maybe it wasn't an airplane. Maybe it was a satellite, or a spaceship. How in the world did it fall from orbit?

"Hey, there's something inside!"

People gasped and surged forward, horrified and fascinated. I couldn't help but be drawn in as well. I couldn't tell who shouted that because suddenly the crash was suddenly swarmed, everyone wanting a look. Others stood back, rightly horrified, hands covering their mouths, moving to whisper to one another. Some weren't so much, and decided to take more pictures.

Around the ship was a group of about half a dozen people, swaying in sync as they all grabbed a large piece of metal — what was once a gull-wing door. They hauled it up and away from something dark sprawled across the wreckage beneath.

It was a body.

It wasn't moving.

Horrified, I drew forward, completely ignoring the alarms sounding off in my head, telling me that this was the absolute last place I should be. I was already in heaps of trouble for taking the car without permission (on a learner's license no less, and going off illegally without a companion — Mom was going to ground me for the rest of my life). Why was I getting myself involved with this crash scene? I didn't want to be a bystander, a witness. This was something I preferred to see on the news and worry about from afar, where it was only a concern in the back of my mind, not the biggest thing happening in my life right now.

A few people bent down, looking over the body with curious hands. The clothes were black and brown, scorched slightly and covered in dirt. It looked to be male, but it was hard to tell from where I was. I took another step forward, my heart beating fast, when a woman moved the man's arm away from his head, then recoiled, suddenly screaming.

Everyone jolted at the sound, and it took me a second to acknowledge what she actually said.

" _Oh, my god! His face! It's a monster_!"

People jumped back, surprised, while the woman continued to scramble away in a panic. Then others started to cry out when they saw the face of the man (which I still couldn't see), and they joined the woman, only adding to the growing tension amongst the witnesses.

" _Holy shit! What_ IS _that?"_

" _Is this real? Is this some prank?"_

" _It's gotta be a prank, man! No one's face looks like that!"_

" _What? Don't touch it, you idiot! He could be Patient Zero!"_

This last thought of this man being diseased spread fast and everyone was suddenly making for the hills, with the trucker guy holding out his arms and warding off any one still curious at what the man looked like. "Everyone, get back! It's not safe! Hey, girl, what do you think you're doing?" He flashed a hand in my face, pulling my attention from the body. I blinked, surprised, turning to him with my mouth open but unable to speak. The trucker scowled and demanded, "Didn't you hear me? Get out of here! This isn't the place for you!"

I just pointed at the man. "What if he needs help? He looks hurt!"

"He don't need our help!" the trucker snapped, pushing me back with one meaty hand. "Just stay out of the way before you hurt yourself."

I stumbled back, but didn't turn away. Instead, I continued to look him in the eye. Why? I had no idea. He was so much bigger than me, but it didn't quite feel that way. I was about the same height as him, and I didn't find myself intimidated so much as irritated.

"Just let me see if he's breathing!" I said, holding out a hand. It was hard to be reasonable when I just wanted to shout at him for being stupid. Didn't they care about whether or not he was hurt? "What happened to that Good Samaritan nature a second ago, huh? What, is he too ugly for you to save his life?"

"You don't understand, kid," The trucker just shook his head, taking my harm to physically pull me away from the site. "You're too young to deal with this. You shouldn't even be here, for Pete's sake! Just go home, before you get in trouble."

Seeing as I was already in trouble, it was a moot point. I dragged my heels as he hauled my back, snapping, "Don't tell me what to do!"

The trucker opened his mouth to retort, but I wriggled my arm out of his grip like a wily snake. I dodged the trucker's next swipe to catch me, jumping over some rubble and running right up to the man. "Just let me help him!"

"Get back here!" He said, but even the trucker seemed nervous to follow after I got so close. Everyone else had gathered at the edges, watching me in a combination of horror, awe, and ridicule. Here I was, the lone stupid kid in a group of adults, just trying to do the right thing. Yay me.

I didn't care about any of them. Kneeling down, I could already tell that the man from the ship was still breathing, if the rise and fall of his back was any indication. But there was something wrong. Although the siren was still going off, making it hard to hear anything, I could still catch the sound of wheezing.

My eyes hadn't focused on his head up until I flipped him over — with some effort, as the guy was pretty heavy. He moaned slightly in protest, but I didn't hear it over the shock that went through my system at the sight of his face.

Earlier, I thought the woman had been overreacting when she saw his face. I thought they were just letting panic get to them — or, at the very least, his face had been badly burned, which was what I later assumed due to the orange-reddish color of his skin, and they were just overreacting.

But the man's face wasn't burned.

In fact, I wouldn't say he was a man at all.

His mouth had no lips — it was a gaping, vertical maw with no teeth to speak of. He had no nose, and his eyes were covered by a strange all-black metal mask that seemed impossible to see out of. The top of his head was peaked, and fleshy coils of tendrils were curled on either side of his head, coming down to grayish points.

I stared at this…this _alien_ face for what felt like forever, unable to believe my eyes. And that's when it hit me — alien was exactly the right word for this.

When the man moved, I broke out of my frozen state. He brought up his hands, which had four fingers instead of five, grabbing helplessly at his face. I thought I was dreaming when I heard: " _H-help…Can't — breathe…"_

I shook my head, and it wasn't until later would I start to question how the alien knew English. Instead, my mind flicked to the top-most priority, and I leaned in, saying loudly so I could be heard over the noise of the ship, which was finally started to fade out. "My name is Katie, I'm here to help! Do you understand me?"

" _Need…mask…_ " he gasped, his strange mouth opening and closing helplessly. " _Oxygen…poisonous…"_

"Mask, mask," I repeated, jerking up and scanning the area in a frantic attempt to find it. What the hell did it even look like? How could I even find it in this wreckage? "Need to find the mask…Where is it? I can't find it!"

"Here!" A new voice said, and before I had time to see who it was, something landed at my feet. I looked down, saw a metal face plate the same color as the alien man's mask. I bent down, picked it up, and scrambled back to the man.

He was still wheezing, faster now as his body went into shock. I fumbled to figure out how the metal fit on his face, but luckily the apparatus seemed to fall where it needed to lay. It had two small pipes on either side, and I quickly figured out that they attached to the tendrils on the side of his face. I wanted to hit myself for taking so long, but ironically didn't even have the time. My hands trembling from fear and adrenalin, I managed to put everything in its place, making sure it was attached firmly.

I was assured of my success by the sudden gasp and heaving as the alien man took in a deep breath of air he could actually breathe. I heaved a sigh, slumping next to him in relief, as the alien man slowly recovered, getting to his elbows and coughing as the rest of the oxygen was purged from his system.

"Is he okay?" the same new voice said, and I looked up, startled to see someone else climbing out of the wreck. A boy with blond hair and blue eyes, a bruise dominating his face under his eye, with a trickle of blood trailing down his temple. He wore a yellow jacket over his torn and dirty clothes.

I wasn't sure if I should be more surprised he appeared to be human, or that he was a teenager. Hell, he looked hardly older than I was. He looked just as surprised to see me as I him.

I opened my mouth to answer, but didn't get a chance to when a hand was suddenly touching my face. I switched my gaze to the alien man, who seemed to be looking at me intensely, while the grip on my face tightened. I tried to wriggle away, but he held me firm. "Whoa, man, what're you doing — ah!"

I was interrupted by a sudden sensation of being underwater: the air caught in my lungs, pressure around my body, particularly my face and in my ears, and a complete, muted silence that was jarring next to the sirens I was hearing earlier. I couldn't even see, the world turning in a gray-tan haze.

The world faded away like I was being swept out at sea, gentle waves washing over me and taking me under. Although I wasn't aware of my surroundings, I felt my body relax, slump to the side. I could feel the rubble beneath my knees, poking my skin and yet…it was a distant, faraway sensation. Entirely numb.

I should've been worried because I knew I wasn't breathing, but in that moment I felt nothing at all. Just…a sense of peace. Of certainty. Which was very nice considering I was near panic less than a minute ago. Just meteors and crash sites and scared mob and aliens and weird boys…I mean, what the hell was even going on?

None of it mattered because I was still okay. It felt as though every worry in the world was gone, every ounce of tension in my body slipping out from my fingers and toes, seeping in the ground and leaving me floating, weightless, and free.

I felt something deeper, in my chest, between my lungs. It wasn't my heart, although I could feel it thumping quite intensely, which would've been disturbing if I still had the mind to care. It was like a new weight, a warmth, a _sensation_ , like I wasn't…alone.

I wasn't alone.

My mind grasped at this feeling, trying to comprehend it, but it eluded me like wet soap through fingers. I just couldn't cling to it, even as I reached an understanding that it was something _benevolent_ , something _peaceful_ and something _intelligent_. It was both here, and not here.

And just when I thought I understood it, it was gone. I blinked, and suddenly my world was back — the wreck, the smoke, the sirens, and the two faces peering quizzically into mine.

The boy had gotten closer, leaning with his hands on his knees. He frowned at me, glancing at the alien man. "Are you sure she's the one?"

"Yes," the alien man intoned in a voice that surprised me by its deepness, a soothing baritone. He nodded slowly, removing his hand from my face. I nearly collapsed, my body lacking nearly all structure. I felt like an amoeba, and it took an incredible amount of strength just to keep myself sitting upright. I felt like I just ran a marathon. "She's the one. I recognize her presence in the Force…so strange to sense it from someone different. But it is nonetheless the same."

"Um, what?" I shook my head, suddenly remembering that I wasn't an amoeba and going stark still, staring at these two weirdos. I scrambled to my feet, but my balance still hadn't quite recovered, and I nearly fell again. The other two followed me, looking a little wary as I demanded, "Wait, d-did you…did you just _Vulcan Mind-Meld_ me? What was that? Who are you? What's the Force? What presence?"

The words just fell out of my mouth in a messy heap. The two looked confused and even I wasn't sure what I just said, just that it was all high-pitched and a little close to weepy. Of all things, I _missed_ that strange zen-like moment, and I wanted it back just as much as I never wanted it to happen again.

I took another step back, holding up my hands even as they exchanged glances, like sharing a thought. "You know what, I don't care. I don't care anymore. I-I can't deal with this, I just can't. I'm done. I have to go home."

"I'm afraid that's not an option," the alien man said, sounding regretful. He was leaning heavily on the boy, who supported him with one arm on his shoulder. He held out a hand in a gesture of reason, if a little beleaguered. "You need to come with us. It's no longer safe here on this planet."

"I — what?" I made a face, not quite able to comprehend his statement. I looked around, hoping for help, but I was startled to see that the bystanders, who had been so abundant before, were suddenly gone. It was just mounds of dirt and fallen trees, and I could only see dark sky beyond the ridge of the crater.

Well, not just sky.

Flashing lights, different this time. Although the sirens of the ship has fizzled out, a new one filled the air, this time much more recognizable.

Police. Possibly worse.

Then, directly overhead, another streak of light. This time I thought it was a helicopter, but I immediately knew it wasn't from sound alone. It wasn't the – _thwap-thwap-thawp_ of spinning blades, but rather the low hum of engines that weren't from of this Earth. I could see the silhouette of the craft in the dark sky, long and squarish and far too large for any helicopter. For a second, I thought it was going to land, before two bright green bolts erupted from its sides — _gun turrets_ — and landed with huge and terrible explosions only meters away.

_BOOM!_

"Oh, my god!" I cried as the explosion rocked the ground and sent me falling back.

I thought more shots would land, but the craft above us turned, sending its next volley into the unseen human enforcements beyond the crater. Even from here I could hear the destruction of vehicles and terrified cries of humans under attack.

I was back on my feet in a moment, turning to face the two, ready to run but hesitating when the boy grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

"Please, can you help us?" he asked, eyes wide and imploring. He shifted under the weight of the alien man, trying to keep him steady. "We need to hide, but Master Plo Koon's hurt and I can't carry him fast enough. Those guys up there are going to destroy anything that gets in their way."

"Those guys?" I asked, jerking a finger over my head. "They're after you? Why?"

"We are wanted men," the alien man — Master Plo Koon? Fitting, I suppose — said, his breathing labored. I felt bad for just standing there and not doing anything. "And Inquisitors will do anything for their master, as is their nature. And they will come for you as well."

"What? No, I-I can't," I said, my own breathing starting to get a little out of hand. "This is all too weird. This has got to be a nightmare. I can't do this. I must be dreaming…"

"It's not a dream, trust me," the boy said, giving me a serious look. "We're not the only ones who know about you, or we won't be. Please, we'll answer any questions you have, just help us, okay?"

I stared at the two of them for a long moment, my shoulders hunching, hands curling into fists. This was bad. This was all so bad. I should've never come here. Were they really aliens? The possibility of some wild and overelaborate prank had been abandoned a long time ago.

No, this was real. This was all very real.

And for some reason, I was at the center of it. Because of course it had to be me. I had the worst luck ever.

I was suddenly aware that I might die. That this might kill me. Those guys flying over us — Inquisitors? Oh, god — were shooting to kill, and it wouldn't be long until they turned those guns on us again. If I ran now, I would be safe. No one would even know I was here. I'd be in hella trouble with Mom, but at least I wouldn't be _dead_.

But even as I considered the thought, I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't just abandon these two. They needed help. They were hurt. And even the idea of them being wanted men, of being criminals, wasn't quite enough to dissuade me.

So I huffed, stomped my foot to resolve myself, then said to them, "All right, I'll help. But I expect some damn good answers!"

"You'll get them, I promise." The boy nodded in earnest, smiling at me in relief.

I frowned at him, still unsure, but didn't hesitate to come over and take Master Plo Koon's other side, taking his arm over my shoulder. He grunted slightly, and I could see now that one leg had a piece of metal lodge in it, blood staining his robes. I had to look away before I made myself sick, and joined the boy in moving forward.

One step at a time, we went up that hill. The sound of Master Plo Koon's breathing was loud in my ear, especially noticeable because his mask made hissing noises as it filtered the oxygen.

There was a loud whirring as the ship above us suddenly increased altitude. I craned my neck back to watch them go, the ship disappearing beyond the horizon. "Where are they going?"

"To hide, probably," the boy replied between heavy breathes. He was carrying the side of Master Plo Koon that he couldn't walk on. "Inquisitors aren't known for their guerilla tactics."

"Even your primitive technology can defeat theirs," Master Plo Koon added. "Provided you have greater numbers and enough firepower."

"Primitive?" I repeated, a little offended.

"Am I correct to assume your planet is not equipped with blasters?" the alien masked asked with what I assumed to be a raised eyebrow. If he even _had_ eyebrows. Which he did not.

"Blasters? You know what, never mind," I rolled my eyes, deciding to drop the matter. "Let's just get out of this stupid crater."

We moved fairly quickly, even uphill. Master Plo Koon wasn't completely unconscious, and his other leg worked fine, so we were at a fairly brisk pace. As we reached the top, I glanced over my shoulder. I could just spot the cops coming over the ridge with their guns out.

As the three of us disappeared into the trees, I felt a small smile dawn upon my lips as the cops, local from the looks of it, came upon a scene that was way over their paygrade.

As we descended back towards the road, I pointed out and said, "My car is this way. I can drive you to my house, and from there…I don't know. I'm not sure how much I can help you."

"You've done more than we can ask," Master Plo Koon said, which made me smile a little. Nice to have a little gratitude for once in your life. "We will cross that bridge when we get there. For now, let us remain out of sight from both your law enforcement and those Inquisitors. Should we encounter trouble, we will be more than capable of handling it."

"Excellent plan," I said. "I like that plan." Then realizing I still didn't have all their names, I glanced past the man's chest to look at the boy. "Hey, I didn't catch your name. What do I call you?"

"I'm Luke," he replied, throwing me a somewhat pained smile. "Luke Skywalker. You?"

"Katsumi Collapsar," I answered. It occurred to me that he could be more injured than he initially appeared. These two both looked like crap, even considering they both survived a space crash. "But most people call me Katie. And I just realized — was there anyone else in the ship? I didn't even check."

"No, it was just us," Plo Koon said. "We were specifically chosen to find you, Katie. The mission was intended to remain top secret…but as you can see, we have garnered unwanted attention."

"What, like some secret mission?" I asked, surprised. I looked ahead — my car was barely visible just beyond some tree branches and rubble. "Feels a little unnecessary, I think. I'm not that important here."

"Not on this planet, no," the alien man said, which did not make me feel much better. When he didn't elaborate, I thought he was just being difficult, until I glanced over and realized he seemed to have fallen unconscious.

"Oh, great. Come on," I huffed, shouldering more of the weight. "We're almost to the car."

I couldn't be happier as we approached the vehicle. The idea of driving seemed pleasing to me for some reason; maybe it was the idea of having some control in my life, where it was going, in a physical sense if not metaphorical. Maybe it was just me, but I really didn't like the terms these guys used, especially in referral to me and whatever was going to happen next.

I had to drop my side of the alien man to open one of the back-doors before helping him inside. Luke paused for a moment, glancing at the tires. "It's on wheels?"

"Yeah, why?" I asked, pausing at the driver's door to give him a look. "Don't tell me that the wheel's fallen out of style, too."

"No," Luke just shrugged nonchalantly, but he didn't meet my eyes. "I just thought you would have hovercraft capabilities by now."

"Well, not all of us are freaks that fall from the sky," I replied, perhaps a little sour than I meant to be, and ducked into the cabin, starting the car. It rocked as Luke joined the Master in the back, the door slamming shut behind him.

He leaned in between the two front seats, eyeing the dashboard with curious eyes. He pointed to the radio, "What does that do?"

"It plays music," I said, then slapped his hand away before he could touch it. "Which I'm not in the mood for! Please don't touch anything! This car is already a piece of junk. It might just fall apart before we get home."

"Well, it can't be _that_ hard to fix, can it?" Luke asked, giving me an expectant look like he thought I knew all the inner workings of the modern combustion engine. "I mean, it's pretty —"

"If you say the word 'primitive' again, I'm kicking you out," I said, before jerking the car in reverse and hitting the gas. The vehicle jerked, and because Luke wasn't wearing his seat belt, nearly face-planted into the dashboard. He gasped, grabbing the seats, before throwing me a disgruntled look. I flashed him a smile. "Buckle up, buttercup. Safety first."

Luke looked like he might argue for a second, before rolling his eyes and disappearing into the backseat. I didn't wait for him to figure out the mechanics of a seatbelt as I turned in my seat and navigated the car backwards. I didn't have a lot of experience in driving in reverse, so this was all kind of new for me (as if nothing else were).

Eventually, the road cleared up enough that I could spin the car around and switch the gear back to drive. As I hit the main road, I took a deep breath, then released it, trying to steel my nerves. I had no idea what I was doing, bringing these two home with me. But what choice did I have?

There was only one thing I knew. Obaasan was _not_ going to like this.

At all.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got to see Star Wars: The Force Awakens last Friday, and I gotta say, every expectation of mine was met :D (I was actually very scared I'd be disappointed, but then again, I rarely get disappointed in movies, so make of that what you will). Anyways, I won't spoil it here, but I certainly recommend you see it if your still on the fence for whatever reason.
> 
> I also love all the Star Wars-related fan stuff that's been coming out in celebration for this movie – in particular, Taylor Davis' violin cover of the Star Wars medley, which I think you guys should listen to if you're interested :) Also, the Nostalgia Chick's Loose Canon episode on the Force/Jedi, which I think is interesting from a meta point of view.
> 
> \--
> 
> I know Plo Koon died because of Order 66, but I liked his characterization so much in the Clone Wars series that I wanted to bring him back. This is AU after all, so I don't feel like I have to explain myself too much. I will give backstory on how he survived. And this isn't a surprise to anyone who read the previous version of this story (if you're still reading, ha-ha, I'm so sorry), I de-aged most of the cast by about 5-7 years. Or a better way to put it, all this happens 5-7 years before the events of the Original Trilogy occurred in the universe, if that makes any sense.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes are always forgivable, if one has the courage to admit them. — Bruce Lee

**Chapter Five**

* * *

 

Heart practically leaping out of my throat, I pulled into the driveway in front of my house. The kitchen light was on, but the rest of the house was dark - and I released the breath I had trapped in my lungs for the last minute and a half. Good. This meant that Obaasan was probably in bed by now.

If I kept this on the DL, then maybe she'll never have to know I brought two strangers — no, _aliens_ — into the house.

"You live here?" I heard from the backseat.

I glanced at Luke over my shoulder, my brow drawing together. "Yeah. Why?"

Luke met my gaze, then away, as if realizing that I didn't appreciate the tone of his voice. I didn't really know what he thought of my home, how it might compare to things he'd seen, if his… _homeplanet_ or whatever was better than Earth, but I didn't care. Thankfully, he got the clue. "Um, never mind."

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head and getting out of the car. I wasn't going to make a fuss about this when I had bigger fish to fry. "Look, you just gotta be quiet, okay?"

I couldn't even slam the door in fear of Obaasan's super-ears hearing it. "I can't take you guys to the hospital because...well, it'd be bad. But we've got a first aid kit here. I hope it'll be enough."

"Thank you, child," Master Plo Koon said as Luke helped him out. He was still wheezing, and I wasn't sure if it was worse than before. It didn't seem like something a first aid kit could solve. "You've already done enough for us already."

"Don't thank me yet," I muttered, turning away from them with my shoulders hunched. His gratitude made me feel awkward and I couldn't figure out why. Not wanting to think about it, I headed for the door, checking to see if the coast was clear before letting the other two inside. Obaasan was nowhere to be seen, luckily — maybe she really was asleep.

I pointed to the couch in the living room. "Set him over there. I'll get the kit from the bathroom."

I was halfway to there when I suddenly stopped, turned around, and jabbed a finger at Luke — who was peering a little too close to the ceremonial sword on the mantle — and hissed, "And don't touch anything!"

Luke withdrew his hand with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

Heaving another sigh, I felt my shoulders sag and slipped into the bathroom. Reaching for the cupboard beneath the sink, I was about to retrieve the kit when I saw my reflection in the mirror, and nearly jumped out of my socks. My face was caked in dirt and ash, my shirt covered in my own handprints, and an expression that revealed far too much of my exhaustion than I liked.

God, I was a mess.

It was enough to make me clean up a little, washing my hands and splashing water on my face. I thought maybe it'd shock some sense into me, maybe make me realize the true gravity of it all. But when I looked at my face again, I still couldn't comprehend how there were _aliens in my house_.

You'd think after watching movies like _E.T. the Extraterrestrial_ and _Star Trek_ that I'd be more prepared for this sort of thing. Nope.

"This is your room?"

"What?" My head snapped around, past the doorway and into the hall, to see Luke peering into my bedroom. Alarmed, I darted over, dropping the kit along the way, but it was too late; he was already inside.

I found him staring up at the ceiling, where the boy-band posters were plastered all over. All at once, I noticed every little thing; the messy bed, the stuffed animals, dirty clothes on the floor, anything and everything that I never wanted a stranger to in my life. I didn't think it could get any worse than this.

Luke squinted. "Did you draw those hearts on yourself?"

Spoke too soon.

Mortified, my face grew hot and I stuttered, "Uh, c-can you leave? You're n-not supposed to be here."

"What's the matter?" Luke brought his head back down and looked at me curiously, as if he had no idea he was the first boy to ever step into my room.

In a mad attempt to fix a hopeless situation, I started forward and kicked some clothes out of sight under the bed, before turning around and pushing him back out the door. Thankfully, Luke didn't resist, just continued to give me a funny look. I told him, "Because I like my privacy, okay? My room is off limits. And so are the other bedrooms. Don't go in there if you want to live, okay?"

He just smirked he stepped into the hallway and I closed the door behind me, infinite relief making me go slack against the wood. He said, "What, you hiding rathtars in there?"

"Rath-what?" I asked, then shook my head, holding up my hand. "No, never mind, don't tell me. I don't want to know." I bent down and picked up the fallen kit, shoving it into his arms. "Go help your Master."

Luke frowned, taking the box. "He's not my Master."

"What? Then why is he called Master?"

"Because that's what he is. Plo Koon is a Jedi Master. The best of the best. But he's not my mentor."

I had no idea what a Jedi was, and put it under _rathtars_ on the ever-growing list of things that did not exist on Earth. "Yeah, whatever. Just help him. I'll get some water."

I ran a hand through my hair, leaving Luke behind so I could go stand alone in the kitchen, trying not to completely freak out. What was I thinking, letting these guys in here? What was Mom going to do when she found out? _Oh, no, Mom._ I left her at the dojo! When was she coming back? _How_ was she getting back? I took the only car we had!

I wanted to sink into the floor and be swallowed up forever. Instead, I looked past the kitchen table into the living room beyond. Luke was tending to Plo Koon, in quiet conversation. For two aliens who fell from the sky in a burning wreck, being hunted down by Inquisitors, they seemed pretty blasé about it all. Maybe it was just another Tuesday for them.

I turned to the sink, grabbed a clean cup, and filled it with water. I initially meant it for Plo Koon, but forgot half-way through and drank it myself. I didn't even realize I was thirsty, but it seemed my body was still in check.

Then I saw the TV to my right and reached over, turning it on. A woman appeared, speaking to the screen, dark night woods behind her. Trees in the skyline, and a suspicious orange light in the distance, thick with smoke.

"… _FBI officials refused to give a statement of what occurred just over that hill, whether its satellite or aircraft that crashed as the rumors say. But they assured us that the situation is contained, with no casualties, and that there's nothing to be afraid of. They also advised everyone to stay inside for the night, in case any remaining debris should make touchdown…"_

I sighed, shaking my head and leaning against the counter. It was as I expected; no one really knew what was going on. Or at least no one important. If the government was involved, then they'd know that the ship that landed wasn't American aircraft. How long would it take them to figure out it wasn't even from this Earth? That there's another ship just like it, flying around in the lower atmosphere?

Maybe they were already handling it.

I was oddly pleased by the idea of Inquisitors — whatever they were — being shot out of the sky by ballistic missiles. Primitive, my ass.

Of course, that wasn't to say the government would handle me too well, considering I was harboring two (illegal?) aliens in my own house. Had I made a mistake? Did we even have laws for this sort of situation? Was there an official protocol I didn't know about?

Thinking about it just gave me a bigger headache. I already felt a little sick, a dark sense of foreboding, like something was wrong. I couldn't shake it, either, and the longer it lasted, the stronger it grew. I wanted it gone, but there was no easy solution, to any of this. I mean, okay, maybe there was; I could call the police, the FBI — they were bound to take me seriously considering the situation. Would they really risk thinking I was crazy or lying?

They'd come and take these two away. They'd be gone before Mom even came home to ground me.

And then my life could go back to normal. I had my few hours of adventure. I was good now.

But I knew I couldn't do that. I knew it wasn't that simple; not the call, not aliens, not anything. I stepped into this mess, now I had to see it through.

"What's that?"

Luke's voice made me jump. I whipped around, but he wasn't looking at me. His attention was stuck on the TV, watching raptly.

My gaze flicked over, realizing what the woman was still talking about, and slapped my hand over the buttons, instantly turning it off. "It's, uh, nothing. Don't worry about it."

Luke tilted his head, apparently intrigued. I thought he might say something about my hasty cover-up, but instead he said, "Not even the Empire has holograms that nice. It's even in color!"

"…What?"

He pointed at the screen. "Your holodeck. How can you have something as advanced as that but no blasters or hovercraft?"

"Because," I said slowly, deciding not to point out that this wasn't the least bit relevant. Luke Skywalker apparently had very different ideas of what was important right now, so I just went along with it. "Because us Earthlings value our entertainment very highly. It's important our…holodecks, or whatever, are better than anything else. People buy massive ones, that can fit an entire wall, just to watch their favorite soap operas."

I wasn't sure if he'd buy it, and I was a little surprised by how unconvinced I was, even though it was technically true. We really _did_ love our TVs, didn't we? At least here in America.

But Luke just nodded like this made total sense. "I guess when you're not fighting in an intergalactic war, you gotta keep yourselves busy somehow."

Then he pointed at the glass of water, giving me a smile. "Do you mind?"

I shook my head, which he took as a go-ahead, but I wasn't even thinking about the water anymore. My head was still stuck on his last comment as Luke took the glass and started heading back to the living room.

It took me three whole seconds to snap out of it, before I choked out, "…did you just say _war?"_

Luke paused, glanced back at me. For the first time, he looked nervous. "Um, yeah. Didn't we mention that?"

My jaw almost hit the floor. "You weren't joking?"

"No?" Luke frowned, like he thought I was being difficult on purpose. "Why do you think we've got Inquisitors after us? They're not after parking violations."

"I-I just…" My hand went to my head, and I just stood there for a second, utterly speechless. It never occurred to me that the Inquisitors might mean more business than I thought. "How is there war in space but we don't know about it?"

"It's kind of a long story. Earth isn't exactly in charted territory." Luke winced, and I had a feeling I really wasn't going to like this story once I finally heard it. "Just trust me when I say that you guys had it lucky."

That didn't really make me feel much better, and I was still trying to comprehend the full magnitude of what I had just got myself involved in. "So, you're, what, war criminals?"

I heard a soft chuckle from the living room. Apparently my panic carried over well. Plo Koon said, "To the Empire, yes. Officially, neither of Luke or I exist anymore. It's the Inquisitors' job to ensure no one finds out the truth. We prefer to remain hidden ourselves as well, but preferably alive."

Okay, so 'Inquisitors' sounded just as bad as I thought it'd be. I opened my mouth to add to that, but I was distracted by movement in the corner of my eye.

" _Mago_ , what is that infernal racket…" I heard Obaasan's voice a second before I realized how much trouble I was going to be in. "You know I do not appreciate you watching TV while I am sleeping —"

Obaasan's stopped abruptly, freezing when she saw the two in our living room, all sharing equal expressions of surprise. I had _meant_ to jump in her way, to keep her from seeing them. Instead, what I _did_ was just stand there dumbly, allowing fate to strike where it may.

Of course, that had to be me.

I was brought out of my shock with a slap to the face and Obaasan demanding: "You brought a _boy_ into the house? Without my permission?"

Reeling back, I grasped my cheek and bit back a cry of pain. Slapped twice in three days? That's a new record. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I managed to say, "I-It's — it's not —"

"It's not what?" Obaasan cut me off, facing me directly. In the back of my mind, I noticed that she had made no remark about Plo Koon. "Not what it looks like? I am no fool, girl, I have eyes! Did you think you could trick me?"

Luke, bless his naïve little heart, tried to intervene. In a flash, he was back in the kitchen, his expression a combination of shock and concern. Holding his hands up in a gesture of peace, he said, "Please, don't take it out on her, she was just helping —"

He made the wrong move. As soon as Luke stepped between me and Obaasan, I saw her tense. Then, almost in slow motion, I watched her draw back her arm, and all the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Obaasan's hand stopped inches from Luke's face — stopped only by my hand around her wrist, having just thrown myself forward. Luke gasped, stumbling back, apparently not seeing the incoming attack that I anticipated. I myself was a little surprised; I didn't know I could move that fast.

But my anger was far more potent.

Obaasan spluttered, startled and furious. "How _dare_ you lay your hand on me!"

"You can hit me," I said, my eyes boring into hers. I couldn't remember the last time I held gaze with Obaasan for so long without wincing, how wrong it was. My tone was low in my throat. "But not my friends."

I couldn't believe my voice didn't tremble, considering I not only physically engaged Obaasan, but also interrupted her (among other transgressions). But as angry as I was, I was careful not to grip her too hard, just hold her back. In any other situation, I would've been horrified with myself.

Obaasan stared back at me, and for a second I thought I saw fear flicker across her face — but it was gone too fast for me to be sure. The next second, she was snapping her wrist out of my grip.

"Perhaps we should leave," Plo Koon suggested, reminding me that we weren't alone.

I wondered if Obaasan might try hitting me again, when her gaze flicked back to the living room.

Plo Koon had stod up when Obaasan had tried striking Luke. Previously, he had been sitting on the couch, and I suppose Obaasan hadn't noticed him at first, either distracted by Luke or too furious with me.

But now. _Now_ she saw him.

I was not prepared for the sound that came out of her mouth.

" _Yokai!"_ she screeched, making everyone jump. She jabbed a finger at Plo Koon, snarling at me, "You let them into our house?!"

"W-what?" I barely had time to register the accusation (my ears were still ringing), when Obaasan charged into the living room, towards the mantle. I realized what she was doing just before she could reach the sword. "Obaasan, no!"

Obaasan's fist had just closed around the hilt and she pulled down the katana, knocking over its stand and turning on Plo Koon just as I darted in. While Plo Koon stumbled back and Obaasan made to unsheathe the weapon, I blocked her way, putting one hand on the hilt and the other on the leather sheath, keeping her from removing it.

" _Let go, stupid child_!" She snapped in Japanese as we struggled for control. I was taller and ostensibly stronger, but Obaasan had a grip of steel. " _I'm fixing the mistake_ you _made!_ "

" _Stop it!_ " I snapped at her, trying to rip the sword out of her grip. It wasn't heavy, but the sword was very, very real, and I doubt Plo Koon would appreciate being run through by a metal blade, on top of his other injuries. " _You're not hurting them!_ "

Over my shoulder, I shouted at the two aliens, who just looked on in frozen speechlessness. "Get out of here!"

While they made a hasty exit, I forced Obaasan a step back, against the wall, so she couldn't slip past me. I could've easily disarmed this woman, with a kick or punch, but I couldn't make myself do it, not to her. There was no doubt in my mind that Obaasan would run after those two if given the chance.

So I begged, " _Grandmother, stop! Just let them go!_ "

" _No! I taught you knew better than to welcome bad fortune into our house!_ "

" _You didn't teach me anything! Now let go, or I'll make you let go!"_ I wasn't sure if that was a bluff or not, but I was willing to chance it in case Obaasan didn't take me seriously. It was her idea, after all, for me to learn Judo.

Thankfully, that didn't escape her, either, and when I finally managed to force the sheathed blade against her chest, the woman huffed and finally let go, shoving it down and away. " _Fine!_ Wait until your mother hears this. What will she say when she hears that you've let strangers into the house? Deformed monsters! She can't protect you then…where do you think you're going?"

I went still, a thought flying through my head. A surprising, exciting, dangerous thought. And now that it was there, it wouldn't leave. But I didn't want to fight it, anyways. It was as if a switch had been flicked inside my head.

I wasn't going to do this anymore.

There was no way I was hanging around for the rest of this rant. Instead, I pivoted on my heel and made a beeline to my room. "She won't have to protect me."

Inside my room, I grabbed my backpack and threw it on my bed. The katana still in my hand as I grabbed clothes from my bureau. There was no way I was putting the sword back when Obaasan was still angry.

"What does _that_ mean?" Her shadow appeared in the doorway as I stuffed the clothes haphazardly into my bag. "And where do you think you're going?"

"I'm fixing my mistake," I said, remembering to toss out my textbook and throw in some essentials in its place.

"Oh? And how will you do that?" Obaasan demanded it, like she wanted to be impressed.

I almost zipped up my bag before considering my stuffed animals. It seemed childish to bring one with me, but considering just how crazy I was being at the moment, I decided it wouldn't hurt. Grabbing my favorite, the Stitch toy my mother got for my seventh birthday, I called it good and slung the backpack over my shoulder. There were so many other things in here that I loved, that I would miss, but there wasn't enough room, and I was too angry, too set on my decision to get sentimental.

"By leaving," I answered finally, pushing her out of the way as I left my room.

Obaasan was actually speechless at that. For maybe two seconds. She chased after me, grabbing my arm and pulling me back away from the door. I nearly stumbled, as I had been putting on my shoes. "Absolutely not! I forbid it!"

"Don't touch me!" I snapped, ripping my arm away and getting my other shoe on. Obaasan didn't try again, perhaps remembering our previous tussle with the sword and avoided pushing me again. Hand on the doorknob, I swung open the door, and was about to charge out when Obaasan made one last cry.

"If you leave this house, you will never be welcomed back inside!"

I hesitated, one foot out the door. Cold air blew in, and outside I could see Luke and Plo Koon, talking anxiously in the dark before glancing at me with perked interest. No doubt they could hear Obaasan shouting.

There was a finality in Obaasan's promise that made me feel like that it was true, or that she'd do her best to make it so. That once I left, there was no coming back. If I made this decision, I couldn't change my mind.

I knew I couldn't just leave later, either. Luke and Plo Koon were waiting for me, and the tension in the air was palpable. The Inquisitors, whatever they were, were still out there. They could even show up here. And as much as I hated Obaasan, I didn't want that.

"Katsumi Matsuda," Obaasan demanded my attention again with the use of my full name. I winced at it, glancing behind me. She purposely left out 'Collapsar', I knew it. Why? Maybe she thought it was a sign of solidarity, that I was still family. That's all that mattered to Obaasan, anyways, for good or ill.

Obaasan stood in the hallway, feet apart, hand on her hip, pointing to the spot at her feet. "Get back inside. Now."

I stared at her.

I was safe here. This was my home. It was the only thing I knew.

"Make me." I said.

And walked out the door.

* * *

 

"So, um," Luke asked about fifteen minutes later. "Are you…okay?"

We were in the car, driving off in some random direction. I didn't know, I was just focused on the road, on not getting distracted. My hands gripped the wheel and I had to remind myself there was a speed limit. I guess he noticed.

"No. I'm not." I muttered.

Luke had taken shotgun this time, allowing Plo Koon to sleep in the back. Luke kept his face on me, but I didn't return the gaze. I was still worked up from the fight, and the fact that Obaasan had taken my challenge upon departure rather literally: by throwing shoes at the car as I drove off, curses and insults flying off her lips, calling dishonor on my name and disowning me at the same time. Not that I took her seriously, that part required legal papers first, but still.

It had been a relief to leave her behind, watching through the rearview mirror as she waved her fists at me, growing smaller and smaller. I had done. I had _finally done it_. I was free.

…Only it didn't feel as liberating as I thought.

Luke cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "That word she used. Yokai. What did it mean?"

"Spirit." I said flatly. "I imagine she meant the demonic kind in this case."

"Oh." Luke seemed to understand from the tone of my voice that I was not in the mood for talking, or at least anything that related to Obaasan. Still, he asked, "She believes in that sort of thing?"

"Obaasan is…traditional." I said, deciding not to get into Shintoism with a guy from Outer Space. "Yokai are supernatural creatures of Japan — where she's from. Where I'm from, I guess. I don't know, I've never been there."

"And Japan is…?"

"A country. Other side of the planet." I said, then shook my head. "Look, I don't really want to talk about this, okay? I just want to leave."

Luke frowned, then sat back in his seat, silent. I continued to be a quivering ball of nerves; I felt like a rabbit cornered by a fox I couldn't see. It was there, some danger that was following us. Was it just my fear, my shock at having so greatly disobeyed Obaasan? That I had done something unforgivable (to her)? That I was only digging myself deeper the longer I drove?

For a moment, I panicked. This was a mistake. This was a horrible, horrible mistake. I was running away with two _aliens_ in a stolen car, that I helped escape from some weird-ass crash-site now swarming with government agents. I was a willing accomplice. Neither of these two held a gun to my back. I was in _so much trouble_.

If I turned back now, maybe it'd still be okay. Maybe I could get through this, my life would return to normal, and Obaasan would go back to her usual bitter self, without trying to exact glorious revenge on me?

No. I straightened in my seat, pulling myself out of that mental corkscrew of terror. No, I made my decision. I was sticking with it. Whatever these two had to offer, it had to be better than Obaasan.

Of course, I'd feel better about that if I hadn't taken the katana, too. Now that I think of it, that was probably why Obaasan was cursing so much.

It was probably better off. I did not need a tiny, angry old woman chasing me with a sword, on top of everything else.

Then a chill passed through my veins, making me hunch my shoulders. It was gone in a moment, and I was about to brush it off, when Luke said, "Did you feel that?"

Behind me, I heard Plo Koon rise, groaning. "Yes. I fear that there is trouble ahead. Be cautious, young Katie."

I hunched further in my seat, dread coiling in my stomach. "Oh, good. Just what I need."

That trouble showed up pretty quick.

It came in the shape of a giant metal spaceship blocking the road. At the very end of a corner in the road, no less.

It loomed past the trees, a black mass of blinking red lights and two forms standing in the light of its boarding ramp.

"Look out!"

Going too fast, I slammed on the breaks, throwing all three of us forward in our seats. I spun the wheel, an instinctual move to avoid hitting them, but I should've remembered my driver's Ed class. When you're about to hit something head on, just let it happen; turning the wheel at this sort of speed would just flip the car.

Which is exactly what happened.

I knew it the moment I jerked the wheel to the right, the pull in my gut, my hair flying into my face. The seatbelt dug into my skin, sharp and burning, the world outside tilted at an impossible angle. I heard the wheels spin out as left the ground. The engine whining.

I didn't remember screaming, but I'm sure it happened.

My head slammed back against the headrest as gravity pulled me upside down. The seatbelt was the only thing keeping me from crashing into the ceiling of the car. All I could see was an unintelligible mass of black and blue.

The car came down again. My head cracked against the side window. A starburst of pain, and I blacked out.

When I came to again, the car was still. The air was silent. Windows broken, glass shattered, grass poking through, all wet. My hands rested beside my head, twitching.

I was still upside down, barely anchored to my seat. The belt only held onto my legs now, my shoulders touching the soft fabric of the ceiling.

I heard something move beside me. A groan. I spun my head around, only to find it bent at crooked angle, my body too twisted to move any further.

Something warm dripping down my face. I regained enough self-awareness to know I was help — that I wasn't the only one here — and to call out. But when I opened my mouth, I choked on something in my throat.

Everything hurt. My head mostly, but also my arms, my chest, my knees. My back was straining, trying to maintain this impossible position. How bad was I hurt? Was something broken? I couldn't tell, and I couldn't check on either Luke or Plo Koon.

My mind was a fog of pain and exhaustion. I could feel it pulling at me, trying to draw me away from all of this. But I couldn't go. I had to help. I had to do _something._

I was still looking out the window. I was now aware of voices, footsteps on gravel. The distant engine of another vehicle, flaring up. I hoped it might be an ambulance, or a police car. But there were no sirens, the lights were all wrong. Where these people here to help?

Footsteps grew louder, crunching on the grass. Water hit my face as boots appeared by the window, only inches from my face.

I opened my mouth again, could only manage a small gasp. In response, I heard a female voice mutter: "… _I hear one. They're still alive._ "

" _Good_." Another replied. Male. I had trouble focusing on their words. " _…them out…leave in ten."_

A face appeared at the window, yellow eyes finding mine. Her face, gray and tattooed, bared a sharp-toothed grin. "Hello, dearie."

I blinked once, slowly, and passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus, I had school stuff and I wanted to finish one of my other fics. I might not update very fast in the future, either, as I have a large project I have to finish before the end of the month.
> 
> FYI, for those just skipping to this chapter, I changed 'bounty hunters' from the last chapter to 'Inquisitors' because that makes more sense to me (and I forgot Star Wars: Rebels happened).
> 
> Also, I heard that they're making a Star Wars prequel thing with Han Solo, of his adventures when he was young, and they're getting a new actor to play him. I seriously hope they consider Jamie Costa or the actor that played young Harrison Ford in 'Age of Adeline' because they actually look/sound like him, and not any of the other choices, who I think are just there because they're popular in Hollywood.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the hiatus! This fic kind of just fell by the wayside and I forgot about it for a while DX. Anyways, I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing this, so please forgive me if this chapter is bit info-dumpy. I might edit it in the future, once I have a better writing flow going.
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy!

**Chapter Six**

_**The wonder is, not that the field of stars is so vast, but that man has measured it. - Anatole France** _

* * *

I woke slowly, to the sound of a distant roar.

I first became aware of the floor. It was cold, hard beneath. My fingers grazed along it. Metal. My back was slumped against the wall, the horizontal edges of a grate digging into my skin. Something small flashed to my upper right - a light of some sort? I couldn't tell. It was so quiet.

All of this was unfamiliar. I had no idea where I was, not that I could find out, because as soon as I opened my eyes, agony pierced through my temples. I winced, groaning weakly. I tried to raise my hand to feel for what hurt, but found my wrists inexplicably bound together. I couldn't see what it was, it still hurt to see. "W-what…?"

Something touched my shoulder. I jumped with a yelp.

"Easy!" Said a familiar voice, as I raised my bound fists to defend myself. The touch retreated, and I squinted through what I realized was not blindness, but rather a very dark room. "Easy, it's just me, Katie. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh, god, Luke," I gasped, dropping my hands with relief. "I-I didn't — I mean, I don't...what's going on? Everything hurts. M-my head and my - ah!" I sucked in a breath when I raised my shoulders, then clutched my left arm. More pain bloomed in my side and knees. "My shoulder."

"Your arm was dislocated in the crash," Luke explained. I tried to see his face in the darkness, but all I could pick out was the outline of his form, the soft halo around his blond hair. There seemed to be a small window behind him. "I popped it back in. I can't believe it didn't wake you up."

I frowned, looking down at my shoulder. "Me, too. You knew how to do that?"

"Basic medic training. All Jedi go through it."

 _Jedi_. My brain was not in the state to be translating foreign, meaningless words. I closed my eyes again, resting my head back against the wall. I decided to ignore it for now. "...The crash? What happened?"

"I don't remember, not all of it." Luke said, and I felt him shift, sitting down next to me. "I remember seeing the ship, then us flipping...I woke up afterwards, when the Inquisitors were pulling me out. I tried to fight them, but I wasn't strong enough...now we're trapped in a cell, stuck on their ship, with no way to contact help."

"Are you okay?" It occurred to me that he might be hurt, too, but I couldn't tell, and felt bad for not asking sooner.

"Fine, mostly," he shrugged. "Just banged my head. Don't worry about me."

I cast Luke a frown, unsure how to respond. I wasn't _worried_ , necessarily, I didn't really know him that well. At all, really. Luke Skywalker was, for all intents and purposes, a complete stranger to me. Honestly, I should be more worried about myself at this point.

But Luke had stood up for me. He stood up to Obaasan, would've taken the slap had I not stopped her. No one had ever done that for me before.

So, okay, I was a little worried. Luke seemed like a good person; my gut said I could trust him.

I shifted forward, had just opened my mouth to say something, when something caught my eye. The window, the orange light beyond.

No, not a light. A _planet_.

"Oh my god," I whispered, jaw dropping as I suddenly shot to my feet. Or tried to, only to find my knees to be jelly, and I stumbled over on the way to the window, catching the wall to support myself.

I pressed my face to the glass. "That's _Jupiter_."

I'd seen pictures, of course. Who hadn't? The biggest planet in our solar system, I recognized it on sight. The Great Red Spot, swirling white and orange and yellow clouds, massive storms on a planet with no solid surface, just a gaseous density so powerful it crushed you with force alone. Smaller orbs hung around it, its moons — I recognized Europa and Callisto, its shiny black surface peppered with white craters, reflecting the Sun's light. From here, it looked like it was lit up by the lights of a thousand cities, even though I knew it was utterly devoid of life.

But no science class could prepare me for the sheer _magnitude_ of Jupiter's size. The fact that I was seeing it, live, in person, was somehow possible.

Jupiter was a big marble across a tapestry of black velvet, dotted with distant stars and galaxies. From where I was, if I held up my hand, Jupiter would be about the size of my palm, drifting slowly across the empty expanse.

From where I was…

"Oh, god," I said again, suddenly feeling very light-headed. "I'm in space. I'm in _freaking Space_."

That's when my legs collapsed underneath me, and I crashed to the floor. Luke make a sound of alarm, but I didn't hear him. I could only conceive the amount of trouble I was in, trying to understand just how screwed I was. _I was in Space_. Never in my life did I ever think this was possible. "Mom is going to ground me for life."

It was amazing.

It was also terrifying.

I wanted to go home.

Earth never felt so safe, so small and easily understood before. I wasn't ready to comprehend the sheer size of Space, of our solar system, of everything beyond Glendower, Virginia. To think I was intimidated by the thought of moving to live in a college dorm in a few years. That seemed like a cakewalk now, compared to this.

"Katie, you're shaking." Luke placed a hand on my knee.

"O-oh, am I?" A wheezing laugh fell off my lips, slightly maniacal, and I stared at him, eyes wide in the darkness. My shoulders rose and fell, and I didn't feel entirely in control. "I wonder _why_ , Luke! What could have _possibly_ turned me into this shambling wreck? First I survived a car crash, which is enough to make any kid feel a little upset. But nooo, now I have to be jettisoned into goddamned Space! No idea where I am, who I'm with, or what the hell is going on!"

"I thought it was pretty obvious we were captured by Inquisitors —"

"Inquisitors?" I demanded. "Inquisitors of _what_? What did you do? And what does any of this have to do with me? Why did they take me? I don't even know you!"

"Because they think you're a Jedi, too."

"What the hell is a Jedi?"

"Will you stop swearing?" Luke snapped back, finally losing his patience. "You don't think I'm freaking out, too? This is the worst thing that could be happening right now. Once the Inquisitors make it out of the Oort belt, it's one quick trip through hyperspace before we're boarded on an Empire ship and being interrogated for information on the Rebels, the last of the Jedi, our secret bases. They'll wring every last bit of information out of us, until there's nothing left. And after that, w-we die."

Luke's voice cracked at the final word. That silenced me pretty quick. A lot of what he said just flew over my head, but I got his meaning well enough. The fear, the encroaching panic, the dreadful thought that there was no way out of this, that there was worse to come.

The air was quiet for a few minutes, only filled with the sound of our breathing and the rumble of the ship around us. I gathered that much by now. We were on a spaceship of some sort, maybe that thing I saw before the car crashed. I never really got a good look at it. Was it the same ship I saw flying over the crater?

"Sorry," I said eventually. "I'm just...new at this whole space thing. I've never been outside of Virginia before."

"What's Virginia?"

"The-the state I lived in. On Earth. I've never been…" I took a deep breath, before my voice could break and bring an onset of tears. No, don't cry, not now. "I've never left home before."

"Oh," Luke replied, his tone also soft. I wished I could see his face, try to guess what he was thinking. "Yeah, I felt the same way, too, when I first left Tatooine." Perhaps sensing the question, he quickly added, "My homeplanet. I lived there my whole life. Finally left a few years ago. You'll get used to it, though. It's actually kind of amazing, how much is out there. How much there is, and how much we haven't seen yet. I honestly couldn't wait to get off Tatooine."

"You're not that old," I said. I was fifteen, which in my opinion was still a little young to be exploring the final frontier, and Luke didn't seem any older than me. I couldn't imagine taking on such a journey at a younger age.

"Not a lot of us are," Luke said. "I'm only sixteen, but I'm actually one of the older students. I haven't trained as long as the others, though. The Jedi are rebuilding in secret, and they're trying to find Force-sensitive kids before the Empire can take them."

"Force-sensitive?" I asked, feeling like an idiot, asking all these questions.

"People who can use the Force. Like you."

"What?" The word was nearly breathless. I didn't even know what that meant, but I knew from the conversation so far that it was serious. "What does that mean? What exactly is the Force?"

"It's, um," Luke paused, searching for the words. "I'm not sure. Obi-Wan is better at explaining it than I am. Essentially, it's this energy field, created by all living things in the galaxy. It surrounds us, it penetrates us. It binds everyone, everything together."

"So...it's gravity."

"No, no," Luke shook his head, chuckling a little. "It's more than that. It's a power, that only some of us can wield. I'd show you, if I could, but there's nothing here. But people who are connected to the Force, they can...sense things, that most other beings can't. The same way the Force binds us, a Jedi can use to affect the world. See things, move things, know things that other people can't know."

"So all Force-sensitives are Jedi?"

"No. You have to train to be a Jedi."

"What happens to those who don't?" I asked, then added as an afterthought. "Or choose not to."

"You turn Sith."

The word sent a chill down my bones. I had a feeling I already knew the answer when I said: "What's a Sith?"

Before Luke could answer, a loud _whoom_ sounded, and a sudden brightness appeared on the opposite wall — a door opening, making me flinch. Obscuring the light was the willowy silhouette of a woman, and even from here I could make out her armor and helmet. It covered her entire face, and a rattling sound came out, a cold voice.

"Good evening, little pretties," she said, words hissing softly. I couldn't tell if that was from the helmet or just her natural speech, but there was something indeterminately inhuman about it. "Good to see you're both still breathing. I was worried there for a moment. Lord Vader appreciates his traitors alive. I suppose he'll have to settle for damaged goods."

Neither of us said anything; I was frozen in fear, overwhelmed by a strange sensation washing over me, the same creeping dread I had felt in the car before it crashed. Only it was stronger now and...was it coming from her?

In the light, I could see Luke's face, drawn into a tight scowl, his jaw set. I liked his tactic better; don't give the woman, whoever she was, the satisfaction of getting any reaction out of us.

"Oh, right," the woman perked, and swept her leg, kicking something inside the room. Two packages, coming to a stop at our feet. "Your rations. Use them wisely, kiddies, my brother and I aren't used to feeding cargo. We might just...forget."

I didn't touch the packets, not entirely sure I could trust them. I already knew I didn't like her.

"And please, try not to do anything _stupid_ while onboard," The woman continued, and flicked her hand. I jumped when a beam of red light erupted from her fist. A low hum carried across the room, making the hair on my arms stand on end.

I could hear the woman smiling. "Or things might get a little messy."

And with that, the door slammed shut again, seamless in the wall.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until it came out in a whoosh. Beside me, Luke relaxed, just a smidge.

"People who don't become Jedi, turn into her. The Seventh Sister." He looked at me. " _That's_ a Sith."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I understand that the Inquisitors (Seventh Sister + Fifth Brother) aren't necessarily Sith in the same way Vader and Palpaltine are, but for the sake of explaining what Dark Side folks are, they exemplify it pretty well (as well as Luke's black-and-white view of the Force).


End file.
